Between Worlds
by Soladara
Summary: All new chapters! AU. After a battle with the Queen, Rum curses Belle to save her, while a band of heroes plots to end The Curse once and for all. But to break the curse could break Belle, and Rum will protect her this time! Meanwhile, Izzy loves Mr. Gold, but the scars on her body and the medication on her vanity remind her that she can't have him. Fate though, has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

Extended Summary:

Regina did not lie, Belle did return to her home and was tortured by clerics. But as Regina is about to be defeated by Snow White, she makes a deal with Rumplestiltskin to return Belle to him-whom she'd imprisoned long ago-if he stopped Henry from undoing her curse. The Belle she unveils however, is a broken doll, long mad from the crimes committed against her. Rumplestiltskin takes her anyway, and curses her with The Curse to bring back her mind, even if the life she remembers never happened.

Izzy French is two important things in Storybrooke, the town's tragic nut case, and hopelessly in love with Mr. Gold. pining for him from a safe distance, she does everything she can to discourage the town gossip, keep him safe, and stay as close to him as she can. But lately, it's getting harder; she's loved him for so long, and finally, he's not holding back anymore either. It would be so easy now to love him like she's wanted to since she was fifteen, before her father discovered her secret and ruined her. She wants him, and he wants her, but the town is small, and gossip ruins lives. Izzy will fight as hard as she can to resist him, because she will protect him, after everything he's done for her, she must.

Meanwhile, a band of heroes works to undo The Curse and overthrow the Evil Queen once and for all. But breaking The Curse could break Belle, and Rumplestiltskin will not allow that to happen again. Gold plots with or against Fate, it's hard to tell, all the while mentoring Henry for a fate only the Dark One can foresee.

Author's Note:

I am reposting this story with new edits and better continuity between early and later chapters. I'm putting the finishing touches on Chapter 25, which is about half way through the story, and will be posting often as we ramp up to Season 2. This story isn't compliant with the actual timeline anymore, sadly the Season 1 finale didn't end as I thought it would so this is an AU story just prior to A Land Without Magic. However, I'm very happy with this story, and am highly motivated to finish it, edit it continuously, and share it with my readers.

One of my greatest joys as an author is to find out what people think is going to happen next before I post. As a reader, I'm always trying to guess how an author will move the story forward, and I'd love to hear what your ideas might be. I love adding reader's ideas in whenever I can, so know I read them all!

Please enjoy Between Worlds, and if you do, please review!

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><p>"Stop! Wait!" With one hand at her throat, the other out before her, the long black sleeves of her elaborate gown billowing in the raging winds surrounding the glowing green circle etched with unnatural designs along the cobblestone floor, the Queen's look was beseeching, but buried deep within her eyes, she knew she'd won.<p>

"Don't listen to her, Henry, keep going, say the words!" Emma was kneeling beside her ten year old son as he held the book open in front of him, reading the restored pages that had once been forever missing. The boy looked poised to continue, opened his mouth to speak the words that sprung up, one after the other, the moment before he spoke them, when that evil voice rang out across the hidden interior room of the mayor's office.

"The words on that page appear because he wills them too," The Queen threw her hand to the right, her eyes now calculating and triumphant as she looked at the one who held the balance of power in this hellish world of unhappy endings. "But, what if I was to make you a deal, Rumplestiltskin, a deal more powerful than the one these simple fools offered you to restore those missing blank pages and make them speak!"

Impeccably dressed in a leather jerkin, with a high collar in various shades of greens and browns, Rumplestiltskin offered a grotesque smile as he tipped his head to the side and let loose a most inappropriate giggle. "Ah, but you have nothing I want, dearie, and what the boy has promised me is soooooo delightful."

From the open book before the boy, the next word glowed a brilliant green, waiting to be spoken before it turned black, its magic spent as the Great Curse was finally lifted. Emma hugged Henry tighter and beyond them, Snow White and Prince Charming stepped forward, towering over their descendents in a protective stance. The power of this place crackled around them, sending sparks into the air like a dozen firecrackers dancing, their light illuminating a still human Jimminey Cricket and Grumpy, the doctor hunched over the toppled dwarf who even now clutched his magic scorched arm.

"Oh, but I do," Drawled the Queen, her eyes alight in triumph as she smiled knowingly at the Dark One. "I have something worth more than a thousand deals that silly boy could make. Something I think you'll want to deal for, Rumple, something that overcomes even your hatred for me."

"Don't listen to her," Dr. Hopper cried, as he lifted his arm covered in Grumpy's blood to protect his face from the relentless winds, "She means to trick you!"

The dark and evil laugh that came from the Queen stopped them all, and even Grumpy, stoic and brave despite the pain, gave a shiver at the sound. "Trick him, trick him! Ha! I don't need to trick him, you fool, I already did that, long ago, and for this exact moment." Her blood red lips enunciated her three final words as her lips curled back to expose her perfectly white teeth. With a tip of her head, the Queen held out her right hand, and with a swirling motion, produced a delicate white tea cup with a simple light blue pattern and a single noticeable chip missing from the rim.

The maniacal smile disappeared from Rumplestitlskin's mouth, and he bared his decaying teeth at the Queen as he curled his body in for the strike. "Give that to me!" he hissed, his voice barely audible above the howling wind, though his words caused the fire pit in the middle of the room to suddenly burst into raging flames as high as a man. In fear, Emma pulled her son in tighter to her frame, and the prince moved to stand at the ready before his family, sword drawn, stance defensive, as Snow White kept one hand at his back and the other on her daughter's shoulder.

But at the show, the Queen's smile only grew wider. "You'll recall the significance of this broken trinket then." And the way she said it, all in the room knew it was no simple bobble she held, at least not to the man now crouched with death in his eyes for the beautiful devil. "If you remember, I told you of the fate of the one that broke this cup. Of how you were the cause of one more ruined life in a long line of tragic stories." She shifted, throwing back her shoulders as she stood straight and tall, confident that the only man that could break her curse was reliving every last agonizing memory. She paused, letting those memories add salt to old wounds before she turned and showed the room her back, swinging the delicate cup by its thin handle.

Most of the room stared at the Queen as she moved, but Henry's eyes saw the panic on scaly features, and the almost inperceivable movement of his black tipped fingers, as if to reach out, to catch a tea cup that he knew would fall, all the while knowing he was far too far away to save it.

"You'll no doubt recall how the story ends." Her turn was slow and calculating, her eyes locking and holding his. "Well," and now she smiled, her mouth twisting into a mixture of hatred and satisfaction, "I lied."

And here, she let slip from her long blood red fingers, the chipped tea cup, allowing it to fall end over end, until it met its inevitable conclusion, and shattered into a thousand pieces on the cold stone floor.

The roar of pain, of enduring loss that echoed from Rumplestitlskin's open mouth was a hollow sound of unimaginable heartbreak and eternal regret. Like a beggar he rushed forward, his hands shaking, his head moving back and forth, as he tried in vain to scoop up the broken pieces at the Queen's feet.

His whimpers of pain were in stark contrast to the Queen's maniacal laughter. "Oh Rumple, so worried about your little keepsake you didn't even hear what I said." Her hands went to her skirt then, bold and black, with rich patterns of filigree woven in with gold, silken thread, and she lifted it before shooting her foot out and kicking him in the shoulder, sending the slighter man backwards, and all the delicate pieces he'd accumulated high into the air around them. There were no words to describe the sound he made then, a beaten animal, a lost soul, the wrenching of the only thing left that tethered mind to reality and not madness.

The tinkling laughter issued again from the Evil Queen's lips, as she walked away, "My, if I'd known it would be this much fun, I might have done this sooner, Rumple." She turned her wicked sneer on him, "Now get a hold of yourself and pay attention.

"There was no dramatic leap from the tallest tower, no heart stopping plunge to the cobblestones below. No, instead there was me, offering a way out, a way to save face. It meant my deepest," her voice dropped an octave, "darkest," and then another, "dungeon." She stood, her voice rising in pitch, "But really, the merchant didn't seem to care as long as I got rid of his little, problem." She turned, her teeth bared and her eyes intense, "Do you understand, Rumplestiltskin?"

When Henry looked, the mischievous and diabolical imp was no more, reduced instead to a trembling, dirty, man. "Y-you said-"

"Oh I know what I said, what I made you believe. Come now Rumple, when have you ever known me to forgo long term planning for the fleeting moment of seeing pain on your face? Relayed that tragic story was a bit of fun, but knowing you'd pay any price for my captive was oh so much more important. I mean after all," her lip curled, "making you relive your greatest pain, over and over again, all the while knowing what was locked away in my dungeon, oh my dear man, it was absolutely priceless."

She turned then and circled the room, and to his credit, Rumplestiltskin stood on shaking legs, his body still hunched over, but in his eyes, even though it was very, very small, there was hope. The Queen continued, "I bided my time, held my captive and waited for the perfect moment, and now, here it is! At the moment of my seeming defeat, when Snow White might actually get her happy ending and finally be rid of me, I have bested her yet again!" She turned her wicked and cold eyes on her step-daughter who stood fearful but determined. "And to see the hope die on your pretty little face, it makes my victory all the more sweet, you ungrateful, wretched chi—"

"Prove it." His voice was no longer filled with giggles and trickster glee, it was dead inside, weighted down by the reality of what could now be true. He looked broken and haggard, and despite the fact that magic crackled at his fingertips, he lifted not a one towards the Queen, just stood there instead, small and defeated, and demanded proof.

Her smile turned into a smirk as she regarded him, "First the terms," and she turned, sweeping the room as the occupants watched the battle for their way of life waged between the two most powerful magic users in any realm. "You agree to retract your help to end my Curse, of returning Happy Endings to these sniveling-"

"PROVE IT!," and as the sound of his demand rebounded around the room, swept up by the swirling wind, even the Queen, strong, beautiful, and evil, faltered, for just a moment, against the raw brutality of that single demand. Fear it would seem, was not lost on the Queen, and she seemed to realize that baiting a wounded and crazed animal would only get her bitten.

Straightening, she hid her unease, and smirked to cover her weakness. But she had been Henry's mother for ten years, and in his child eyes, he could see the truth as he watched her smile. "With pleasure."

Long fingers grabbed the edge of her black cloak and drew it before her, higher and higher until it reached just below her chin, and then her arm dropped, exposing a waifish girl, dirty and decked in rags that vaguely resemble a hospital gown. Her long brown hair was stringy and dull, bordering on gray. Her skin was pale, her cheeks hollow, and her eyes, were pools that reflect only what was before her. She was an empty, lifeless, doll.

"...no...," his voice was lost to the wind, but his lips move in denial to what he saw before him, and his hand reached out as if to save her.

"Well, maybe I should rephrase, I didn't lie about EVERYTHING." His weakness gave her power, as if there was only so much within the room, and it was torn between them in a constant war of wills. "Everything I said up to the point of her suicide was indeed true. She did return to her father's castle, and he did cast her out as unclean. She saved her entire village, and he cared more about knowing how you had defiled her and stolen her virtue. Ah, but she is a rare thing," Those manicured fingers reached up and gently stroked the girl's cheek, but the girl did not move, did not react at all, oblivious to the world around her. "She would hear none of the accusations, and instead, defended your honor, Rumplestiltskin." Her words were frozen daggers aimed with the greatest marksmanship, striking him true. "When he promised her an end to the beatings, the torture, the kind of brutality that can only befall a maiden," she watched in delight the realization slash at his soul, "told her all she needed to do was admit to your evil, and he would end her pain," the Queen looked at him in mock pity, "She would not. Instead, she defended you, spoke of your kindness, of your care of her, but mostly," the wicked grin split her face once again, "of her love for you."

The Queen turned in a grand, sweeping gesture, and circled the living doll before her. "She screamed in agony during the beatings, the brandings, the cleric's special brand of justice, but always, until not a single sound more could be driven from her lips, did she profess your honor, and her love for you."

Behind the girl now, the Queen placed both hands on her boney shoulders, and over the top of her greasy head of hair she regarded the Dark One. "They were preparing to drown her as a witch when I," she paused, smiled and touched her hand delicately to her chest, "offered to take her off her poor father's hands.

"And in all that time, and my dear Rumple, you know it has been a very, very long, long time, the dear child has said not a single word." And here the Queen had her final triumphant moment.

A perfect fingertip touched matching lips as if thinking on a deep subject. "Now there I go again, lying, just a little mind you, nothing you would see as much consequence considering you're hell bent on destroying my magic. But, just in case, you might like to know," with deceptive strength, the Queen pushed the girl to the side, so that she was no longer within the glowing green circle with its alien markings that showed the growing area no longer affected by The Curse as Henry read the words.

Her legs didn't stumble to catch herself, instead the girl fell hard to the stone floor, her legs buckling under her. But once outside, a transformation began. A delicate hand, caked in dirt, braced against the stones, and a thin arm pushed with shaky strength. Carefully, hesitantly, she sat up, her muscles twitching at the exertion. That same delicate hand shifted then, and brushed back her curtain of greasy hair, until her eyes, no longer empty, but now filled with confusion and fear, regarded the room before recoiling in on herself in terror. Her hand went to her mouth, as if holding in her cries for help. There was no fog of madness, instead there was a young woman in deep confusion and understandable fear. When she spoke, her voice was horse with disuse, but the drawling sound of a light Australian accent was obvious, "W-Where am I? Who, who are you people?" And then, as if drawn by Fate, she found him in the room, and their eyes locked. For the briefest moment there was nothing, and then, as if even the Great Curse held no power over them, she tipped her head to the side, "I, I know you. Don't…don't I know you?"

The Queen wasted no time. "End my Curse, Rumplestiltskin, and your love is returned to our world, where madness has left her a hollow and empty shell of the woman who was once brave enough to love you. But leave my Curse as it is, let my revenge against Snow White continue, and your little love is just another Storybrooke resident. No painful torture, no blank and empty eyes, just the clean slate that they all are, before they are remade for this world of hellish endings."

Then she turned, no longer looking at Rumplestiltskin, but instead at her step-daughter, and their eyes locked as she asks the unnecessary question, "So, Rumplestiltskin, do we have a deal?"

"Deal." His hands reached out, one towards the book in Henry's grasp, the other towards the still confused girl. In the blink of an eye, the unspoken word on the page, once glowing with magic, extinguished, turning black and useless before it and all the other spent words disappeared, and the girl, once a dozen feet away, was again a rag doll, but this time cradled in his lap, as his cheek brushed hers, and his hands smoothed back her limp tresses.

"NO!" Emma stood, throwing Henry behind her. "You can't do this, Gold, we had a deal!"

The Queen's laughter was tempered only by Snow White's gasp of teary disbelief, but Henry didn't hear any of it, he is watching, with eyes older than his years, as he saw what the others did not.

Scaly hands with black nails were reverent as he touched her cheek. His golden eyes absorbed every inch of her face, committing it to memory, reminding himself what he already knew-he'd never forgotten one inch. His memory was perfect, and she, his heroic maiden, was exactly as he remembered her. The grime, the years, the endless longing, had not changed her, she was his living memory, no longer embodied in a chipped tea cup, but gently breathing within his arms, and still too far away for him to touch.

"You will never escape me, Snow White!"

As the child watched, Rumplestiltskin lifted the young woman effortlessly within his arms, and turned, carrying her over to a high wooden table. A dozen ingredients for a hundred potions sat upon the surface, but with a flick of his finger the clutter flew to the right, smashing into the far wall and exploding outwards, leveling the wall, and the building beyond.

He gave the show little mind, engrossed instead in laying his prize upon the table top. Rotating his shoulders, he removed his leather vest and balled it before lifting her head as carefully as he would that of a newborn, before resting it upon the hide. With but a thought, it morphed into a pillow of pale gold silk. His hand brushed an errant, half formed curl from her forehead, and he smiled to himself, remembering a particular section of hair that used to give her so much trouble; always falling out of place when she dusted the high shelves.

In their continued shock at the destructive power of his true magic, his real power, he ignored them, taking his time to arrange her arms so that her hands folded ever so delicately under her breasts. The dirty blue gown she wore was too high for his liking, and with a scowl and a sweep of his hand, the rags became a beautiful pale blue sundress, long and delicate. Her skin once encrusted with grime, gleamed in the fire light as if freshly scrubbed, and though she was still pale, her rosy lips were pink and smooth, while her cinnamon lashes were curled lightly against pale but flushed cheeks. She was beautiful, an image of a sleeping angel. Pure.

But the Queen's words remind him that her purity was now tainted, though she would always be pure to him. His eyes grew dark and deadly as he thought on the short work the Clerics had made of his beloved's virtue.

Now this he knew, pain, vengeance, rage, this he could command.

His voice was low and dangerous when he spoke, and around the room, ice formed on every surface save the table where his love rested. "You know, your Majesty, the funny thing about deals," and at this he looked up, rage and madness converging in his demon eyes, "you have to be, very, very, specific when you make them."

Fear fell across the Queen's face, and her voice was nearly a whisper, "We had a deal-"

"Yes, yes," the imp agreed, as the glee of escaping an otherwise perfect trap echoed in his flamboyant gestures and manic giggle. "We had a deal, we had such a wonderfully, marvelously, ambiguous deal." His grin split his face and showed off his grotesque teeth.

From the corner of the room, came a snort of laughter, "By the devil, you worked her up into such a revenge speech she never even gave the terms." Grumpy chuckled, gripping his arm as pain flooded his features. "Good for you!"

"No! I said—"

"Oh I'll tell you what you said dearie as my deal with you was very simple, I agreed not to help "them"," and he giggled at the ambiguous pronoun, "undo your Curse, and in exchange, I get the girl, who I might add, is ruined in our world, but safe in this one." He paced behind the table, grand gestures making his hands and arms create sweeping, whimsical dance movements in the air. "And then there's the deal I had with Henry, to help 'them'," and he giggled again, "lift the Curse by mending the book so the magical words appeared and could be spoken by none other than Snow White's grandson." He lifted a finger to his cheek as if in thought, "Well, I do believe I upheld that bargain, as the magical words did appear, and were spoken by young Master Henry, even if they weren't fully completed, but again, dearie, you must make your deals specific." He waged his finger at Henry, "Let this be a lesson to you."

"You bastard!" Emma shouted, but Rumplestiltskin ignored her. His pace measured as he rounded the table delighting in each step.

"Well then, that does appear to be it, doesn't it?"

"No, that isn't it." The book was closed, but still clutched to his chest as Henry tried to take a step towards the Dark One, but Snow White held him back. "That can't be it!"

"Oh?" With a smirk, he closed the distance between himself and the boy, bending at the waist to come down to Henry's level, though he was far too close. His expression was knowing, "And why might that be, Little Prince?"

Henry shook his head, "Because whoever that lady is, she loved you, and you loved her too. The Evil Queen tricked you, she knew what was happening to her in the tower and she let it happen anyway. The Evil Queen is responsible for what happened and, and you're not the type to just let that go!"

Slowly, painstakingly, and with a grin so evil it bordered on madness, Rumplestiltskin turned his head towards the Wicked Queen. She took a step back, and then another, her hands before her as if to ward off the impending attack.

As if she could defend against him.

"I-I saved her life! They were going to drown her!"

"You'll spare me all your little details, in the end, the boy is right." He straightened to his full height, which while not tall, filled the room. His voice was once again low and deadly, "You stole from me, tricked me, made me the fool, and now, dearie, I'll return the favor."

With a snap of his fingers, the glowing green circle traced by magic around the floor fractured, lines of power shot across the ground like lightning strikes until one fracture touched everyone in the room except his sleeping maid. Then in a brilliant flash, all the energy from the circle's edges pulled inwards along the fissures until they struck each person in painless light before showering them with delicately fluttering sparks of magic that disappeared as they touched skin and cloth.

Another manic laugh filled the room, "There now, everyone here, save the most special person of all, is free from the memory erasing component of The Curse. You are all free to remember whatever you wish to remember, or forget whatever you wish to forget." He turned then to Snow White and her Prince, "And you, your Majesties, I expect to use my vengeance well."

"NO!" The scream was wrenched from a place so deep and black within the Queen's soul it had no equal. But before him, the young princess bowed deeply.

"It is a gift we will not squander, Dark One."

"No, no, I expect not, dearie." And then, with an inhuman lung, Rumplestiltskin closes the distance between himself and the Fairest One in all the land, his oily fingers gripping her cheeks and yanking her face until it was mere inches from his own. He felt cold steel at his throat instantly as her prince leveled his sword, but Rumplestiltskin paid it no mind, steel could not harm him. His voice was a promise of the most painful vengeance, yet as his eyes shone fire and death as they locked with Snow White's, "For you heard the Queen. Do as you like, boil her in oil, tar and feather her if you can catch her, burn her at the stake for all I care, but if you make a move to lift this Curse, if you even think about sending us back to our own world, I will bring the wrath of hell upon you and yours as no living soul has ever had the misfortune to experience. Cross me, dear Snow White, and I will make your most unhappy end seem blissful compared to what I will deliver to you and your family."

And then with a cackle, he shoved her face away from him, releasing her to be swept behind Prince Charming as if the country boy turned Prince could protect her.

"You will pay for this, Rumplestiltskin!"

He rolled his eyes at the Queen, "Oh, do shut up. Your beat, bested, you lost." He sung, "And now," His eyes grew narrow and sharp, "Now you best run off and hide, dearie, lick those wounds and prepare your defenses, for something tells me, your dear step-daughter might just have the charisma to end you yet."

Bared teeth showed her to know and believe his words, and with a sweep of her cloak, she disappeared as if she was never there.

Rumplestiltskin tittered, clicking his nails together before him. But his eyes fell upon something he had not seen during the exchange, nor did it seem the others had either.

Standing on a forgotten chair, Henry was poised over the resting girl. His hand hesitated and then brushed back her hair. His expression, confused and pensive, but also curious, and it took him only a moment before he lifted and cocked his head to the side, regarding the sallow man. "Who is she? I mean, what's her name?"

He hesitated, and then in a show of his power, transformed his body into its most human form, no longer Rumplestiltskin in all his flashy glory, but Mr. Gold, in his tailored suits, and cultured ways. He set his cane on the floor and allowed it to make a click, before he shifted his weight to his good leg and took a step, and then another, until he was standing across from Henry, regarding the young boy over the body of his angel. His Scottish accent made his words sound warm, "A name is a very important thing, Little Prince, it's not to be given lightly."

The boy nodded absently as the adults watched the exchange with trepidation. "Still," he finally said, "She's not really one of us until she has a name, right?"

"Henry," Emma called, but Gold lifted his cane and pointed it menacingly at her without looking at her, before moving it to rest along the table.

Deep in thought, he hesitated before finally asking, "How do you mean?"

Henry shrugged, "She's obviously one of us, well like everyone but me and Emma, so she has a story. I mean, she's important to you, right? Don't you love her?"

From any other it would have been a threat, an unspoken promise to strike against that which he held most dear. But Henry was a boy, a special boy who had yet to understand just how special he was; and the others, they each had their parts to play as well. After all, there were rules of course, rules the heroes must always follow…

He glanced down at the serene and distant face, then nodded his head, "Yes, Henry, very, very much."

Before him the boy grew excited. "Then she is important, maybe super important! We won't know until we know her name." He drifted for a moment in deep thought, "Hm, if you're Rumplestiltskin..."

He couldn't help it, he gave a quick chuckle, "I think that's well and good established."

Henry nodded, "Yeah, well if you're Rumplestiltskin, then maybe...maybe she's the Miller's daughter! Yeah! Didn't you turn straw into gold for her so she wouldn't be killed by the king?"

At this he burst into a deep and robust laugh, shocking all in the room. "Ay, Henry, I did indeed spin straw into gold for the Miller's daughter, but I think you'll find that story without a pleasant ending, and as different from the retelling as any other of our stories." He looked down, trying again to memorize her features. "She is most definitely not the Miller's daughter."

"Well, if you tell me her name, I can help."

Glancing up, he regarded the young child, so much like his own son, envisioning how time would change his precocious nature, and the destiny that lay in wait for him. "Oh, and what can you tell me that I don't already know?"

After a moment, Henry shrugged his shoulder, "I don't know, but it can't hurt, right?"

And he realized with a start, that no, it couldn't. On its own, his hand snaked out to brush that same stubborn curl from her forehead, and he smiled with the memory.

"Belle, her name, is Belle."

Henry rocked the chair he was standing on in his excitement, "As in Beauty, as in Beauty and the Beast?" He nodded his head, and to everyone's surprise, Henry gave a loud whoop, and jumped off the chair before running into his mother's arms. "It's ok now Emma! Don't you see? Everything is going to be ok now! This is so awesome!"

"Henry," Dr. Hopper, approached the boy, careful to skirt around Gold. "What do you mean, why would you say that?"

The boy nearly glowed with happiness, and squeezed his mother's hand for lack of something else. "It's obvious, I mean, it's so obvious!"

"Henry," this time his mother tried, but the room waited on baited breath for the answer, "What do you mean, 'It's obvious'?"

With a sigh of exasperation, Henry pointed to the sleeping woman, "She's Beauty, and he's the Beast." When it became apparent no one followed his logic, Henry sighed again, "It's so obvious! In the story, Beauty breaks the curse! Her love breaks the curse. The story doesn't say which curse, so duh, she's going to be the one to break the Evil Queen's curse!"

Around him, the other adults chided the boy, disregarding his protests that he was right and trying to explain to a ten year old, the large leap in his logic. But in silence, Rumplestiltskin casted his eyes to the slip of a girl who once proved herself to be the bravest person he'd ever met, by standing up to him in the middle of a cold dungeon to tell him he would regret his choice for all of time. She'd been right of course. Delicate and small, she'd given her life to defend his worthless honor, and within him a thought stirred. Fate was a strange thing, dipping and twisting along a given path, but always there was order to its seeming chaos. Could the boy be right? Could his Belle do the impossible and end The Curse, and if she did, would this too cost her, her life?

He would not lose her again, he wouldn't risk it. She was here, beneath his fingertips, and he would not, could not, let her slip away from him again. Let these foolish ones fight over scraps and hunt the Wicked Queen, his world had been reduced to mere existence the moment she left him in that cell so long ago, and now that he had her, now that he could see and touch her, hold her close to him, he cared little about the trivial nature of those around him. This time, he would not let his fears and doubts overrule his heart, he would not be a coward this time.

"What will you do with her, Rumplestiltskin?" Snow White was many things, but always she had been observant. She had slipped from the protective stance of her husband, and now stood at the head of the table, regarding him, her eyes analyzing his intentions as she gazed into his soul.

He paid her little mind, but answered her question all the same. "She will need a name, and an identity in this new life." He ran the back of his hand lightly over her cheek, as if he could not stop touching her for fear she'd disappear once again into the blackness of death.

"How are you going to do that?" Emma asked, anger still in her voice, but now calmed and mixed with curiosity.

"Watch." He said simply, and with the barest hint of his power, he placed his index finger above the center of her forehead and spoke the words, "Fill the vessel and add her drop to the rest."

From his finger, a small droplet of shimmering magic danced. Within it swirled light blues, pale pinks, deep purples, rich greens, and always the color he thought of when he thought of her, gold, with the same gossamer weight as the silken strands she used to watch him spin late into the night.

And then, it fell, touched her forehead and split into two streams that ran through unseen tributaries into the edges of her closed eyes. For a moment her cinnamon lashes shimmered with the magic, until, as quickly as it was there, the magic absorbed into the vessel and spread.

Instantly he closed his eyes as images of Belle seeped into the memories of the residents of Storybrooke. Behind his closed eyes, he saw her, and realized that her name was Isabelle French, the daughter of Moe French. He saw her younger, small and frail as she walked with her long hair down, laughing with a teenage Ruby as she made her way from school back to her father's house. Another memory, watching the flashing lights of the police car whirl as Graham cuffed her father and hauled him from the house. He watched as Granny wrapped her still young frame in a brown wool blanket before Ruby ran up with an ice pack for the deep purple marks that colored her pale face. He listened as Granny came to him for the extra money needed to care for an additional mouth, and how he gave it to her for the ridiculous promise of pie whenever he wanted it. And then the new evening ritual, added to his existence, a ritual he'd performed for more than ten years now; close the shop for an hour at 5:30pm, walk to Granny's, and sit at the last stool of the counter, and wait for Belle, for he was the only one that was allowed to call her that, bring him a slice of pie. Always their conversations were brief, but knowing, he was checking up on her, and she was checking up on him. Then in another memory he saw her walking to Dr. Hopper's office for her weekly visit, and saw her leaving, sometimes with a smile, other times with a tissue still in her hand and her cheeks still red from tears.

It was only recently that the memories altered. A new venture for the girl, one his mind rejected, both as Mr. Gold and Rumplestiltskin. Old enough to make her own way now, she'd taken a second job bartending at The Cove Friday and Saturday nights; wearing skimpy clothing to increase her tips. She was harder now, not nearly so kind and trusting, she danced with the men, too closely, too personally, as if in doing so, she could exercise the demons chasing her. And like her, his habits had changed as well. He no longer went to the diner for a slice of pie on those nights she tended bar, instead he closed his shop an hour later and made his way to the bar with its loud music and riotous crowd. From his booth closest to the stock room, he watched her tend to the customers, laugh and flirt with the patrons, and occasionally dance with the clients, or sing at the open mike to get the crowd going on a slow night. But always, at a quarter to ten, she would take her break and come and sit across from him. They talked about nothing, and yet their time together was just as important as it was every other night at the diner. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes in her presence was all he received, and yet it was enough. She'd wish him a good night, and he'd leave, retrace his steps alone, and return to his empty house.

It was their routine, it was her life, condensed into a single droplet of magic that rippled from her and into the lives of everyone in Storybrooke she touched. Ruby and Granny's lives were forever altered for taking in the young girl with the abusive father, Moe too was forever shunned in the small town that never forgot his sins. And he, her silent benefactor, watching her silently, despite the hushed comments of the townsfolk that saw a man in his late forties forever shadowing the broken girl. In her life but not; whispering encouragement and offering her a smile so rarely bestowed on others. She knew the whispers, and whether she believed their hypotheses or not, she treated him no differently than that first rainy evening he had sat on that bright red stool and asked how her day had been.

He was in her life, but not a part of it. Good. She deserved better, even if he couldn't let her go.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the others do the same, reaching for their heads as if to shake the new memories into place. The town would be confused for a few hours, but by the morning Isabelle French would be Ruby's best friend, and the tragic girl they'd known, well, as long as they could remember.

Reverently, he looked down at the sleeping woman and smiled sadly before lifting her carefully into his arms as if she weighted not a pound, and the limp so pronounced in his daily life, was as if it had never been. To his eternal surprise, she gave a soft sigh, and turned her cheek into his shoulder and snuggled against him.

Within his chest, his heart shattered into a million pieces before soaring for the heavens. She was where she belonged, and he would spend the rest of her life making up for the damage and pain he'd caused her in his fear. He turned for the door, intent on leaving the heroes where they stood, but Prince James's confused voice stopped him.

"Why? Why wouldn't you compel her to love you? You have the magic to do so, why not force her to remember at least her feelings for you?"

A thousand snappy answers rushed to his mind, but he found he didn't care for any of them. Instead he walked to the door and paused at the threshold. He didn't bother turning around, "Because I love her enough, to lose her. And maybe, if I can somehow become a better man than I am, I can love her enough to let her go." Then he stepped through the doorway.

"But not today."


	2. Chapter 2

The pillow hit her soundly in the face, causing Isabelle to give a little cry and then moan in realization before turning her back to the open doorway. The loud, obnoxious knocking that followed was enough to drive the sanest person mad. "Come on Izzy, wake up! Granny's in a mood this morning and I'm not taking all the heat myself!"

She moaned in denial shaking her head as she pulled the light blue comforter with the white star pattern over her head. "Just ten more minutes," she drawled, her accent thick this early in the morning.

When the knocking stopped, Isabelle knew what was coming next and braced herself. A half second later, found Ruby crashing half on top of her, having launched herself from the doorway, her bony knees falling to either side of her left leg. With insistent, and unforgiving hands, Ruby shook her wildly to wake her up. "No way girl, get up. I'm serious, I'm not facing the breakfast crowd this early by myself, or Granny's insanity about heavy drinking on Wednesday nights. She's on a tirade I tell you!"

"Well maybe if you didn't come home drunk and throw up on the hallway runner, she wouldn't get so angry."

Ruby pulled back, and through her hair, Izzy could just make out the bothersome look on her best friend's face. "I did that? Last night? Are you sure?"

"Ugh!" With a push and a tug, Isabelle rolled over onto her back and glared at her would be sister. "I'm absolutely sure; who do you think put you to bed and then cleaned up the mess? I mean, really Ruby, just how much did you drink last night, anyway?"

The dark haired young woman with the bright red streaks shrugged a delicate shoulder. "No idea." Her kohl rimmed eyes met blurry ones and then she smiled. "Oh well, that as yesterday, and today is today, and today, Granny's throwing a fit, and I'm not going—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, get off already, so I can get up. What time is it anyway?" She turned her head and saw 5:38am on the digital clock. "Crap!" With a shove, Isabelle threw the blankets off and pushed Ruby away, making a mad dash through her room to grab the essentials. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

From her place on the bed, Ruby smiled, "I thought you wanted ten more minutes?"

Izzy's balled up nightshirt hit her square in the face. "Get out!"

"See you downstairs!"

Without stopping, Isabelle raced into the bathroom, turned the hot water high to let it heat up, and grabbed her toothbrush and went to work all while trying to remove the last of her clothing. Anyone else would have been shocked at the cross-work pattern of interconnecting, raised scars that covered his torso, or the triple crosses branded around her belly button, but now a days, she barely paid them any mind. Her back was worse, a mass of burn marks, some long and slender from the width of the poker, others dots where she'd been jabbed instead. On bad days, when the memories overwhelmed her, she'd wear her favorite fluffy, oversized gray sweater. Those days, Ruby stayed closer to her, and Granny would call Izzy into her room and run a brush soothingly through her hair. She wished it was their kindness that made the memories disappear, but in truth, only he could dull the pain, even if only for a little while.

Teeth brushed, clothes in a heap at her feet, Isabelle pulled back the curtain and jumped inside, only to scream out in pain as she realized the water was way too hot now. Throwing herself against the tiled wall, she reached out with stretched fingers and fumbled for the dial, turning the water to a more manageable temperature. With a sigh of relief, she managed to cool the water, and then grabbed her shampoo, the only brand that smelled like roses, and went to work on her hair.

Silently, she ticked off her schedule for the day. Work at the dinner until two, then head over to Dr. Hopper's for her session, then back to the dinner until five thirty, when he'd come in, then another two hours, and then she could kick back and relax, maybe even get in some more research. She couldn't do it in the diner. Sure she could read when things were slow, and often she did, but she couldn't do this kind of research where Ruby or Granny could get a hold of it. Ruby would mock her, even good naturedly, and Granny, well, Granny didn't need any more stress. With Ruby as a granddaughter, and Izzy taking the new job at The Cove on Friday and Saturday nights, it was a wonder it wasn't Granny brandishing crucifixes.

Her hands faltered for a moment at the memory, but she shook it off and rinsed the conditioner from her hair before grabbing the loofa and pouring the rose scented body soap onto it. It was bright yellow with the head of Sponge Bob Square Pants on it. It always made her smile to use it, Ruby was such a kick.

She had a lot to be thankful to Ruby for. Years ago, forever now it seemed, Ruby had heard her tearful confession, and had promptly ignored her pleas not to say anything. The sixteen year old had told her Granny everything, and that night, Isabelle had been rescued from a summer of torture. She'd hated her best friend at first, hated her for telling the secret she'd felt the dark haired girl had had no right to tell. But after a few weeks with Dr. Hopper, and an equal amount of time spent with her new family, and she'd understood.

Well, that, and he'd called her brave.

With a turn, Izzy stopped the water and reached for the bright yellow towel hanging on the wall, buffing and scrubbing the water from her body as she raced into the bedroom. With a shreek she cursed Ruby under her breath, and slammed the bedroom door shut so she didn't scare the inn's patrons with her jigsaw body. Throwing the towel on the floor she slid open the closet and reached for a white pinstriped button up and a pale blue sweater vest. Next she located her discarded jeans in a heap on the computer chair in the corner overlooking Main Street below. From there she could look across and down the street, to the barely visible, empty store front on the corner of 4th and Main. With a smile she grabbed her under clothes, threw them on and then tugged on her acid washed blue jeans and then the buttoned, three quarter length sleeved shirt and threw the vest on over the top.

Back in the bathroom, she added a little product to her hair, and put half of it up in a low ponytail before flipping it inside it itself, so it twisted the edges. One stubborn half curl just to the right of the center of her face fell out of place, and with a huff, she used her fingernails to rake it back into submission. A coat of light make-up, a little lip gloss, and a spritz of perfume, and she was out of the bathroom, looking for socks and shoes all while trying to shove a pair of gold filigree hoops into her ears.

She was still struggling with one shoe and her right earring when she tore into the hallway and raced down the back stairwell that led into the family's kitchen and from there, the side entrance of the diner. She could hear Granny laying into Ruby, and for just a second, considered letting her get the chewing out she so richly deserved. But then common sense won out; if Ruby got sulky, Izzy would be stuck prepping alone for the breakfast shift.

With a beaming smile on her face, Izzy raced into the kitchen, threw Granny a good morning, and grabbed Ruby's hand before hauling her bodily from their humble country kitchen, and into the metallic, retro beauty of Granny's Diner. Once inside, she gave Ruby a little shove towards the potatoes. "You owe me, so you peel, I'll start putting the chairs down, and putting the shakers on the table." And with that, Isabelle French laced a white apron to her waist and began her day.

* * *

><p>They were gathered in the most private space they knew of, Dr. Hopper's Psychiatric office. Grumpy's arm had been patched though not mended, and he sat sipping a glass of whisky the good doctor had found him to ease the pain. At nine, the little grasshopper would hop over to the pharmacy and fill a prescription for painkillers, but for now, the whisky was doing the hard work.<p>

Emma sat on the end of the single couch, Henry sleeping fitfully beside her. The issue of what to do with Henry had been a short discussion, he would stay with Emma, nothing more to discuss. They would move Mary Margaret's things later that day. Katherine had gone missing, as had her possessions, so it seemed, there was an unoccupied space in David's home, and they could think of nothing better than to reunite Snow White with her Prince. Emma would take over the flat with Henry.

That left only two burning issues remaining, "What are we going to do about the Queen, and The Curse?" Emma's tone was quiet as she tried to let her son rest, and likewise the other's followed suit.

From his place at the window, his bride tucked safely within his arms, Charming shook his head, "For now we do nothing." Snow turned to protest but he shushed her, "You heard Rumplestiltskin, saw the madness in his eyes. The girl he protects, he will do so to his grave, and until we can find a way to break The Curse without harming her, he will forever thwart our every attempt."

"But we can't just give up?" Snow was desperate as she turned, her hand going to her husband's shadowed face, "I have sympathy for the girl, from what we heard and what I now remember, her life has been hard and cruel, but we cannot give up on ending The Curse and the Queen, for one single person."

"I have seen the desperation to protect that I saw in his eyes when he held that maiden in his arms, it is a look I know all too well," and Charming's hand rose and caressed one fair cheek. "The fiercest dragon could not sway him. No, we must find another way, or his rage will bring us all down where we stand."

Emma sighed, "He's right." She still couldn't bring herself to think of him as anything other than Mary Margaret's—no Snow White's—husband. "If we tackle The Curse head on, he'll stop us. Instead, I think we need to focus on the Queen," then she paused, "and maybe getting to know this Belle a little better."

Apprehension colored Snow White's eyes, "What do you mean, Emma?"

Standing, Emma went to the metal file cabinet on the other side of the room. "Archie, I mean, Jimminey, oh forget it, Archie, said she was a patient of his." She opened the drawer and removed the file that read simply, "Isabelle". "If she's that important to Gold, Rump—ugh!—whatever, then we'd better know everything we can about her, and if possible, make her our ally." She handed the file to the doctor, who took it with trepidation. "Look it over, and fill us in on anything we need to know. In the mean time, I'll get Henry settled in and then bring the car back to pick up, Grumpy and take him home." She wondered why 'Grumpy' wasn't as hard for her until she realized that unlike the others, his name really did fit him perfectly.

Turning, Emma lifted Henry into her arms, and couldn't help the motherly smile that graced her face as her sleeping son was finally going home with her. A few feet away, her parent's watched the look fall upon her face and shared a knowing smile. When Emma was gone, the two shared another look before Snow White left the protective arms of her Prince and crossed to the empty chair facing the once cricket. "The path my daughter walks is fraught with danger, for herself, her son, for all of us. The girl, Belle, is the key to all of this. If we can find a way to convince the Dark One to help us again, we can break The Curse and return home. To do that, we need to find a way to protect her, and since it is her mind that is broken, I'm counting on you Jimminey to find a way to help her. Do you think you can do it?"

Across the desk, the red haired man looked down at the unusually thick file in his hands. Memories of his sessions with the broken girl filled his mind and he swallowed at the monumental task before him. With a nod, he grabbed a note pad from his desk and wrote out the prescription for the pain medication and handed it to Snow as the Prince helped move the injured dwarf to the now vacant couch. Then he turned away from them all and opened the file, reading more deeply than ever before, the horror filled details of a child whose innocence was stolen far too soon, and the secret she'd shared only with him, a secret he would not betray no matter what the consequences. For as much as he loved his pure and warm Princess Snow White, he could never betray, not even for their safe return to their own world, the precious secret Isabelle French had entrusted to him.

There had to be another way, any other way, for a conscious like him, to guide this quest of heroes without sacrificing even more of the slight girl known as Belle.

Author's Note:

Reviews would be lovely, it'd be nice to know if people liked the story or not. The review button is right there, click and feed an author!

Next chapter, GOLD or as I like to call him, Mr. Hotty Pants!


	3. Chapter 3

Izzy gave a half smile as she waved to a group of school children walking home in the mid afternoon sun. She was running about five minutes late, but since Dr. Hopper always had extra time for his clients, she didn't think he'd even notice.

The sun was high and warm, and the air smelled like rich flowers and cool breezes. She could hear the excitement of the children walking every corner of the street, the topic on summer vacation which would start in only three weeks. Izzy remembered the excitement of her own school days, waiting for that all important vacation to finally, finally happen. It had been her favorite time of year.

Until the summer she turned sixteen.

She gave herself a little shake as she continued down the sidewalk, now looking down at the cement before her. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about that summer since this morning. Normally, those black, horror filled days were blissfully quiet and gave her little trouble, but for some reason, and she wasn't sure why, the memories were really bothering her today, as if they were fresh and new in her mind.

Even Ruby had noticed her melancholy and suggested she bring it up today, "You know, maybe you just need to unload a little. That's all I'm saying."

With a sigh, Isabelle straightened and checked traffic before crossing the street. Though she didn't want to, she knew she'd end up talking about it today during her session. She didn't like to talk about it, not ever. Usually she talked around it, not what happened but how she felt because of it. Talking about it tended to bring up nightmares, and the one person who could make them stop didn't even know he was helping her. Besides, while she'd see him today-in a few hours even-tomorrow would be another of the long days, when she'd have to wait until her late evening shift at The Cove to share her time with him. That was too long; it was too hard to get through the days after she talked about it if he wasn't there until later in the night.

She sighed, feeling dependent on a man who didn't even know how important he was to her very existence was exhausting. Taking the stairs to Dr. Hopper's office building, she ignored the stabbing at her heart whenever she thought about things she couldn't have. She couldn't be normal, she couldn't be fun-loving, and she couldn't have the man who made her life better—because to have him, would destroy him, and she wouldn't do that to him.

Reaching for the office door she went to pull just as someone pushed, the momentum caused her to stumble and give a little cry as she tripped over her feet, her grip on the door the only thing that kept her from falling. She heard the gasp, and the soft, "Oh, oh my, are you alright, Isabelle?"

Looking up, Izzy's sadness of a moment ago lessened as she smiled at Mary Margaret and deepened still when she saw David behind her. "I'm fine, just startled, that's all. Well don't you two look...happy this afternoon." She suppressed her own agony and smiled knowingly, having watched the couple spend the last few months trying not to make googly eyes at each other over upside down books and forgotten cups of coffee.

David smiled, and to Izzy's surprise, looped his arm around Mary Margaret's shoulder and pulled her close, kissing her temple. "It is indeed a wonderful day."

Mary Margaret had the decency to blush as the smile fell ever so slightly from Izzy's face. It was one thing to moon over each other, but David was still a married man, and as far as Isabelle knew Katherine was still in the picture.

Suddenly embarrassed by their very public display, Isabelle shook her head and took a step away from the couple. Something about it felt too familiar, too much like a dream she was trying desperately to forget. In a quick dash, before Mary Margaret could issue the words she'd opened her mouth to say, Isabelle skirted around the couple and grabbed the door frame. "Well, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm late for my weekly, so I'd better head up. See you two later." Before she turned and entered the cool, dark hallway, grateful to be away from them.

It wasn't fair, how some people got to be happy while others had to pretend at happiness.

She got about ten feet from the door when David surprised her by calling out to her. Turning, she eyed him as his darkened silhouette advanced. For a moment she felt trapped, remembering a larger more imposing figure coming towards her in the same fashion so many years ago, a long metal stick with a molten image of a glowing cross at the end, sizzling with heat as the figure drew closer. At the memory, she took a step backwards, closing her eye to block out the memory as her hand reached out to steady her frame against the wall. She willed herself to calm down, to see what was really before her, as a very sheepish looking David stopped two feet in front of her, his mind obviously on his words and not her appearance. "Um, I owe you an explanation-"

Grateful he was too self-engrossed to notice, she straightened, taking her hand off the wall and shook her head, "No, no, you don't. Whatever you two decide to do with your lives, that's your business-"

"Yes but I feel like-"

"OK," this was ridiculous, and if she had to give a grown man an etiquette lesson, well she would. "Look David, I'm really happy for you and Mary Margaret, I mean, you two deserve to be happy together. But this is a small town, and people talk-believe me-if you don't want Katherine to find o-"

"She's gone, Izzy, Katherine is gone." Hm, that was new, last time Ruby had said anything Katherine had slapped Mary Margaret in front of the entire elementary school and was determined to hang onto her man. David continued, "All of her things were gone when I got home, I think the message is pretty clear. And well," he put his hand to the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture, "I'm head over heels with Sn-Mary Margaret, and I just can't not be with her. C-Can you understand that?"

Could she understand what it was like to love someone so much and know that it was wrong to love them, and not be able to stop herself anyway, oh yeah, she was an expert on that one. But instead of comment she just nodded her head. Then she arched an eyebrow and wagged her finger at him like Gran would have had she been there. "But still, you need to be mindful of Mary Margaret's reputation David, in a town like this, a little gossip can ruin lives. So, so just take things slowly, at least in public, or you'll have Granny tittering by the fire all night with the other old ladies in town." He nodded and seemed to consider her words carefully. But Izzy just gave herself a little start and turned around. "That's my two cents. Anyway gotta run, Dr. Hopper is going to kill me if I don't get in there."

Without waiting for a reply, Isabelle turned away from David and ran up the interior staircase that led to the second floor and headed for Dr. Hopper's office. Not her most graceful exit, but she was a little embarrassed for having to point out the obvious to a grown man, even if he had been in a coma for years before he woke up.

At the door she knocked twice and waited for his cheery, "Come in, Isabelle," before turning the knob and walking into the dim, warm office that belonged to Dr. Hopper. The only light came in through the windows that overlooked Main Street, yet there was enough of it that it filled the room while still seeming comforting. This room was one of her favorite places in all the world. Here, inside these walls, she felt safe to say anything and everything, and know she wouldn't be judged. These four walls had been her sanctuary when so many other safe places in her life had turned out to be nothing more than dungeons.

"Hello, Izzy, how are you this afternoon?" The red haired doctor was sitting behind the desk, but he stood and walked around it as she went and took her customary spot laying across the couch. She knew it was cliché, but in the beginning, she'd always been so exhausted from the pain medication and the night terrors that she'd laid on the couch out of necessity, now a days, she did it because her feet hurt from waiting tables and she was sleep deprived from holding down two jobs.

She settled in and then turned her head to the side and beamed at him. "Great! I'm making out on tips today, and didn't have to peel a single potato since I saved Ruby from Granny's wrath. So far, no one's spilled anything I've had to clean up, and the sun is shining outside; I'd say all in all it's be a smashing day!"

One look at him, told her she'd over sold it, and the good doctor didn't believe a word of it. Caught, she turned her head away, embarrassed for having lied, and then considered for a moment faking her way through her session, just this once. She didn't want to talk about the things he'd want her to say. She didn't want to relive the memories that were so close to the front of her mind she could touch them. Subconsciously, her hand went to cover the area of her stomach where those three crosses surrounded her belly button. One cross for each time her father thought she'd been sinful, each cross a prayer to prevent a demon spawned child from growing in her womb.

She swallowed hard, her fingers hooking like claws into the fluffy gray sweater that covered her punishment for a crime she had never committed.

And then, just like that, the reality of it all crashed onto her, and she turned on the couch and curled into a ball hugging herself tightly. She took measured breaths, in and out, and closed her eyes trying to will herself not to cry, not to admit her weakness. The memories were so close, the pain of what had happened to her almost real again in the moments she tried to suppress it. She'd suffered so many injustices, so much because her father hadn't believed her when she'd told him nothing happened. Her father with his big hands and stubby fat fingers, so cold and cruel as he'd held her down and…

And then finally, it was too much. Opening her eyes tears swimming, she looked at Dr. Hopper and told him the pure and damning truth, "I need to see him, I need to see him so bad."

Dr. Hopper stood and moved over to her, laying his warm hand on her shoulder where his thumb brushed back and forth trying to comfort her. His tone was soft and gentle when he spoke. "What happened today, Isabelle?"

She shook her head, not wanting to voice it, but with her eyes closed it was easier to speak to the darkness. "I don't know! I was in the shower and just started thinking about, about Granny holding the branding stick and...and I thought I'd put it out of my mind, but, but-"

"But it stuck there." She nodded, her fingers curling into her sweater.

"Little things kept bothering me all day. The Sister's came in for breakfast, and all I could do was watch their rosaries swinging. Later, some girls skipping school stopped for coffee, and one of them called the other a 'whore' and I had to run into the back to keep from crying. And then, then I just looked at Ruby, all leggy, with perfect skin, and I thought about what I look like, I had to run up stairs and change clothes. I felt like everyone was staring at me, or like my scars were showing through my shirt, which I know is stupid, but just, just look at me!" She sat up, with Dr. Hopper on his knees before her and threw her hands out showing off her fluffy gray sweater, "It's eighty degrees outside and I'm dressed like it's the middle of winter! Granny will have a fit if she seems me in this sweater, she already thinks bartending at The Cove is a bad idea, and this stupid sweater isn't going to help any! I mean, what's wrong with me! Why can't I just forget it ever happened and move on with my life? Why? Why?"

The sad look on his face made her feel like damaged good, and she looked away in disgust and self-contempt. Pulling away from him, she stood and walked over to the picture window and looked down the street towards the place she knew she could find comfort but dared not ask for it. He was there, in his dark shop, making deals in his soft, comforting voice that always soothed the ragged edges of her soul. He was silently, deceptively strong, his presence alone ensuring her safety. She closed her eyes against the pain of always wanting what she couldn't have. "Who's going to want me when I'm such a basket case? When rosaries and perfect skin makes me want to…makes me want too…" She stopped, not wanting to voice her thoughts, wanting instead to imagine herself in his dark shop, sitting in the window box like she had when she was a girl, watching him over the edge of her third library book as he worked with customers, but would always secretly look up and offer her a knowing smile and a roll of his eyes. In those long forgotten days, she hardly ever spoke to him, preferring to share his company in silence. She'd been a fun and outgoing girl of fifteen, with friends, and after school activities, but the quiet calm he and his shop had offered her, without need for something in return, had given her a reprieve from an otherwise busy teenage life.

Izzy closed her eyes at the memory, she'd been safe there, with hardly a word spoken, her heart learning little by little that a brief conversation over a cup of tea, or half smile from across the room, was so much more powerful than the awkward and bold attempts made by the boys in her classes.

His voice, with his soothing accent, so much more refined that her Australian one would flow against her subconscious as she read, making every hero in her books Scottish, and morphing the image of the younger dashing hero into an older, more cultured gentleman with an even temper, and quick wit. And so rare it was hard to remember, the days when he would walk over to her warm window box in the sun and smile down at her, and tease her in that child like, giddy voice of his, that she couldn't help but light up and laugh at his animated display. He'd only acted like that twice with her, but the results had been the same. She'd fallen in love with him; comforted by a sense of familiarity and blooming excitement.

In truth, she didn't care if no one in the world wanted her, as long as he did.

Rising to his feet, Dr. Hopper walked over to his desk and opened a drawer before extracting a bottle of pills. He popped the top and walked to her side, handing one to her. It was a matter of how much she trusted him, that she didn't question the medication, just popped it into her mouth and swallowed. It tasted bitter, like she felt, and she knew he was trying to calm. From his pocket he handed her a peppermint candy, and she took it from him before this too went into her mouth.

Then he walked back to his chair and sat down, leaving her by the window.

For a long time, they said nothing, and slowly, Isabelle felt the medication seep into her system and allow her racing mind to settle a fraction. The burden of her past dulled once again, but the longing, the need to connect with someone so important and so impossible, still weighted heavily. Her place in his shop had been their little secret; no one on the outside could see her from where she sat, and he only ever went to talk to her when they were alone. But despite all the seeming precautions, it had been the slip of her own tongue that had sealed her fate.

She sighed before looking away from her perfect place and walked back to the couch. Instead of laying across it, she put her head onto her arms and leaned against the arm of the couch, drawing her feet up. "You're going to say I'm being too hard on myself, aren't you?"

He didn't say a word, just looked at her knowingly though his spectacles, the afternoon light hitting the corner so they glowed. She nodded, feeling lonelier now that she was away from the window and her memories of their time together, when the world was still filled with open doors and the possibility of happiness. Clearing her throat, she spoke quietly, letting her voice die at the end of her statement, a testament to her despair, "Most days it really doesn't bother me, it's like it happened to someone else; but on days like today, I wish I'd died in that house."

Pain flitted across the doctor's face, and Izzy felt shame at having caused it, cursing herself for saying the words out loud. Her suicidal thoughts where not something she often brought up, even in this room, because she knew so many people loved her and wanted her to be safe and happy. She felt like she was letting them down when she spoke the darker words of her heart. But on days like today, rare and distant from one another, they slipped out, even when she knew better than to say them.

She closed her eyes again, knowing what was coming and choosing to face it head on. They'd been down this path before, and she knew where it would lead. "You're going to make me take more medicine, aren't you?"

There was a long pause but she didn't open her eyes, it was only a matter of time before he confirmed what her simple admission had cost her. When he did speak, there was pain in his voice, "Maybe just for a little while Izzy." She nodded, defeated.

Doctor patient confidentiality was important to Dr. Hopper, but her health was his major concern. Even though she was years beyond minor status, she knew he'd call Granny and tell her she was back on the heavier stuff, and that Isabelle should be watched more carefully. She hated it because then Granny would make herself sick staying up late and pacing the hallway outside her room, occasionally poking her head in to make sure everything was as it should be, not like last time...or the time before that...or the time...

A single tear escaped her eye and she swatted at it like it was some offensive bug. But despite her best efforts the despair overwhelmed her, and with a gasp, she buried her face in her arm and gave in.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After her session was finally over and the blotchy redness had faded from her eyes, Isabelle left the safety of Dr. Hopper's office, and walked to the pharmacy. She filled her prescription, not daring to look up and see the sympathetic but knowing expression on the allergy prone man behind the counter. From there she'd gone back to the diner, but one look at Ruby, and her best friend had sent her upstairs for a nap. She'd heard the phone ring as she'd settled into her bed, the muffled voice of Granny in the kitchen, saying, "Yes, yes, I understand" before footsteps down the hall ended with the sound of the rocking chair as Granny steeled herself for the coming nights.

It was all too painful really, so she took one of the small red pills, set her alarm clock for five twenty-five, and let sleep claim her.

An hour later she awoke from her dreamless sleep, and lifted the covers, pulled off her fluffy gray sweater and found the shirt and light blue sweater vest she'd discarded earlier in the day. He wasn't stupid, he knew what that sweater meant, and besides, he'd know she was having an off day with just one look at her, she didn't need to announce it to the world by wearing that stupid sweater.

Even if he had given it to her.

In the bathroom, she brushed the tangles from her hair, and pulled down the sweater, as if in doing so she could hide more of what it covered, and then she left the safety of her bedroom and walked down the stairs. She didn't have to wonder if he'd arrived yet, Ruby's voice was clear all the way from the diner. "Sorry, she's sick, guess you're stuck with me."

In the kitchen, she pushed through the swinging door and plastered a smile on her face, hoping the world wouldn't ask too many questions. She schooled her voice to be calm and bored, as if this was any other day, as if she didn't need him more than she ever had before. "I'm not sick, my head just hurts, and I wouldn't stick you with Ruby even if I was sick, she's worse than any flu bug you could catch from me."

Just seeing him made everything better; her heart leaping in her chest and pounding so loud it drowned out all other sound to her ears.

He was barely a head taller than Isabelle, all wiry arms and legs, and that long hair that seemed out of place in today's world. He was dressed in a navy blue suit and matching tie, a long dark coat that seemed too warm for the current weather, and a cane, always his cane. And that look, that soft look on his face that was always and forever, just for her.

"This way, Mr. Gold." She nodded towards his customary place at the end of the counter, furthest from the rest of the guests. His eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer than usual, and she wondered if he was reading her and figuring out what had happened that afternoon. But then he nodded, and let her lead him to his place. No one sat there anymore, and on the rare chance someone tried, Izzy made them move. It just wasn't right any other way.

"How are you today, Belle?" The Scottish brogue washed over her, soothing the open sores her memories had created this day. She turned away from him to collect herself, pretending to busy herself finding the pie server.

He was the only one in all the world allowed to call her Belle. Well, he and her mother, and her mother was long, long dead.

Over her shoulder she answered him, still not trusting herself not to give away all of her secrets by facing him. "Good. Had a bit of a headache earlier but a nap cleared that right up." Her back still to him, she lifted the metallic pie server. "We have Apple, Cherry, Berry, and Peach today, what'll it be?"

He didn't answer. He didn't answer for so long, she wondered if she'd actually asked the question at all. Confused, she turned to look at him, and realized he hadn't answered her on purpose.

He'd wanted her to turn around.

His gaze was dark and questing, scrutinizing every feature as his eyes danced over her face. She lowered the server and gazed back at him, feeling as if he was looking into her soul, as if he could see and read each and every thought she'd ever had, and was going through them all, one by one, looking for something very specific.

Within her chest her heart started to beat wildly, chaotically, and the edges of her vision blackened until all she could see was him, his face, his eyes. For a moment her mind saw another face, so similar and yet so foreign, and despite it all, so very wrong and comforting.

She missed that face.

The pie server hit the tiled floor with a loud clanging noise, shocking her from her thoughts. Her eyes went wide for a moment, afraid of that memory.

"Izzy!"

She looked to her left as Ruby came to her side, touching her shoulder. "Are you ok? Do you need to go lay down?"

For a moment she stood there dumbly, confused by what had happened, then with a phony laugh she shook the hand off her shoulder and bent down to pick up the server, taking it over the small sink and washing it off. "Naw, I'm fine, this thing was just wet and it slipped out of my hand."

"Are you-"

"I'm fine, see," And she beamed at her forever friend before flicking some water at her. "Now go on, let me just help Mr. Gold and then I'll take back my section."

"Izzy-"

"I'm fine, really, now go!" Isabelle gave her a playful shove, trying to cover up her still racing heart. "Table three needs a refill."

Not stopping to think about it, she reached up and grabbed the berry pie and an empty plate, and scooped a generous slice onto the center of the dish. As she turned, she grabbed a coffee cup.

Placing the dish before him, she looked up and smiled, a brilliant smile he seemed to know wasn't real, and his eyes darkened even more for it. "The Berry is better today anyway, I had a piece at lunch." Turning she grabbed the hot water carafe and filled his coffee cup before ducking under the counter and retrieving the tin of Earl Gray tea she kept just for him. She busied herself measuring out the tea but stopped as his voice once again broke through the chaos of her mind.

"How are you really doing today, Belle?"

She couldn't help it, the teaspoon in her hand shook and spilled the tea leaves everywhere but into the tea seeper. His hand, his large, warm hand, reached out for her wrist, but she pulled away at the last minute, knowing if he touched her right then, she'd burst into tears and cause a scene.

The very reason why she never shared her real wishes with him.

Her voice waivered ever so slightly despite being whisper quiet so no one overheard them, "I-It was a harder session than normal today." She tipped her head to the side in a light shrug she hoped would overshadow her words.

"What did Dr. Hopper say?" He asked, his hand on the counter now, close but not touching hers, his voice low and just for her.

She glanced up for a moment, met his eyes and then looked away, back down at the slice of naked pie. "I have to go back on the medication again." She didn't have to tell him which kind he knew. How, she didn't know. He just seemed to know everything, and despite the shame of it all, she didn't mind him knowing, she would tell him anything if he just asked.

He seemed to understand and inched his hand closer to hers, so their fingers just touched. From anywhere else in the diner, no one could see, but to Izzy, it meant the world. For the briefest second, she closed her eyes to savor the feeling of his touch, of being connected to him, before his voice once again washed over her. "I'm sure it's for the best, dearie."

Few things were constant in this world, but there were a few. Every day, Mr. Gold came in for pie, every day he called her Belle where with anyone else he'd call them by their sir name, and forever and always, when everyone else was 'dear' she was 'dearie'. It made her world feel right, centered, grounded and safe. Despite all the chaos around her, things constantly changing, people wanting and needing things from her, this man wanted two things, a slice of pie and to know she was alright.

The feel of his fingers gliding across hers was mesmerizing. It made that cold, empty place in her heart feel warm and instantly filled. She wanted this feeling forever, but knew what it would cost him.

This town, this stupid provincial town, thought Mr. Gold was a money grabbing mob king pin. They took his money, traded for it fair and square, and whispered behind his back as if it was his fault they'd found themselves in enough trouble to need his help. Too many times to count, Old Mrs. Sole, with her eighteen children would come crying to Granny about how much Mr. Gold wanted this time for a loan. Or even Ash, who had told her countless times she wasn't ready to be a mother, didn't want a baby, couldn't afford it; when Isabelle had asked Mr. Gold if he could help her, and he'd offered Ashley a way out-that she'd accepted!-it was Mr. Gold who suffered the consequences.

She wasn't naive though, she knew the deals he struck were business ones, and that meant he was going to win in the end. But that didn't make him a bad person, it made him an excellent business man.

And when he was charitable, when he gave tens of thousands to put in the new playground at the elementary school, or supported the children's theater, or bought six boxes of Girl Scout cookies he never ate, but slipped to Isabelle over the counter every single year, well, he was just doing it to ease his guilty conscious.

The injustice of it all made her so angry. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs when she heard Ruby call him a goblin, or watched mother's pull their children in close when he walked by on the side walk. They never looked, they didn't see, the hurt would flash, all most too quickly to be seen by anyone who didn't watch him every day; it was in his eyes, that pain. It broke her heart to see it, to hear them, and yet, she knew what would happen if she ever said anything against it.

They already whispered about it. The old man who fawned over the daughter of that religious nutcase. How he went to see her every day, even when she was underage, how he'd sit in that diner and stare at her. Whispers circulated that he wanted more than pie for the money he'd given Gran, some said, still gave her. What a disgusting man, taking advantage of that poor girl with her ruined body. Or, could he have already asked her for payment, was that why the fire department had had to coax her off the cliffs last spring, was he already making her pay?

Old geezer!

Pervert!

Disgusting!

Whore!

_"I know you let him touch you, Isabelle! That disgusting monster! You're unclean now, but don't worry, Daddy will fix that. It'll take some time, Princess, but Daddy will make you clean again."_

She pulled back, moving until her back was against the far counter, the soda machine digging into her back as she looked down at her shoes and breathed, in and out, in and out.

She wouldn't remember it, she wouldn't!

"Belle?"

"There you are, Gold. Though I don't know why I looked for you anywhere else before here." The gruff voice of Leroy filled the entire diner and knocked the memory from the front of Belle's mind. She looked up to see that Mr. Gold had risen from his seat, his hand braced on the counter top as if to round it and see to her. But Leroy's loud voice had caught his attention too, and his head, with his hair-which just wasn't right-was turned to look at the rude, stout man.

Leroy rounded the far table, but misjudged, smacking into it and causing the salt shaker to tip over, spilling salt all over the floor.

Bad omen, spilled salt. She watched as Ruby went to clean it up, "Watch where you're walking; that's a table not a pathway!"

That bulky frame came right up to her counter, his head turned to look at her, and she had a moment to realize his arm was in a sling and his eyes were dilated, before he smiled at her. "Well, if it isn't, little Izzy. Keeping, Gold company I see."

This was not the usual behavior of the town drunk. If there was trouble in town, Leroy was most likely part of it, but in all the years she'd known him, he'd never been vulgar before. She watched his hand shaking a little as he aimed to place it on the counter and missed before hitting it the second time.

Concern caused a little wrinkle to form between her brows, and she took a step towards him, automatically reaching for a coffee cup and setting it down before him as he took his seat next to a still standing Gold.

"He's in my section today it seems. What about you? Looking a little tired there, Leroy." She grabbed the coffee pot and made eye contact with Ruby across the room. "Let's start with a cupa shall we?"

"Hm, only if it's got whisky in it." He turned his eye then and surveyed Mr. Gold who was still standing, almost offended to have to sit next to this less than appealing man. It was a strange sight; Izzy didn't think the two of them had ever even been in the same room together before this. "What's the problem, Goldy? Sit a minute; I wanna talk to you about a little business deal you broke."

Impossible! In all the years she'd known him, Mr. Gold had never once been accused of breaking a deal before. It just wasn't done. He had too much honor to break a deal, even if he lost, and occasionally, rarely, he did lose.

But what he was being accused of was just ridiculous, and so she set the coffee carafe on the counter with a thud of its metal base and turned her expression into a glare. "Leroy, I think you need to drink that cup of coffee there, right now before you get yourself into trouble." Leaning forward then, she pushed the back of her hand against his forehead, completely catching him off guard. His skin was cold and clammy, and she could feel the perspiration as she pulled her hand back and brushed it against her jeans. "Are you feeling alright? You don't look well. What happened to your arm?"

The dumbfound look morphed into a look of bitter rage that stunned her. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend over here?"

Oh no! That was not the rumor she wanted spread around because Leroy had gotten drunk and yelled what everyone else had the decency to at least whisper about. She turned, reaching for the old style phone hanging from the wall. "I'm calling one of your brothers, Leroy-"

"Don't bother, thanks to him, they won't even remember who I am." Confused, she turned in time to see Leroy round on Gold, and before she could think twice, the large man was up and right in Mr. Gold's face. "They won't remember who I am at all, and neither will she! All because of you!" His good hand went out and shoved at the middle of Gold's chest.

She saw it happening as if in slow motion. He'd been standing awkwardly when he'd reacted to her withdraw, and when Leroy rounded on him, his bad leg was in an even worse position. The shove was the last move, catching him off balance. She saw his hand, with those warm, long, sure fingers, reach out, fumbling for the counter top to catch his fall; but just as she saw it, she knew he would miss.

She wouldn't. Izzy rounded the counter top, twisting her body so that her knee came up to brace the thigh of his bad leg, while her arms went round, one to his waist, the other up and behind his shoulder, to haul him back up into a standing position. Her heart was racing, her world narrowed to the focus of thanking the Lord she'd caught him, and smelling that rich cedar scent with just a hint of dust that filled her senses as she rested her cheek against his chest trying to catch her breath from her rescue.

It took her a second to realize, her world narrowing to that single sensation, that in her bid to outmaneuver gravity, her shirt had ridden up, and that same, warm hand, with those long slender fingers, was pressed against her back, right across the network of rippling scars. His fingers flexed, his body learning the lines of her shame without the use of his eyes. He was seeing her for the first time, just how damaged she really was, and she wanted to drop to her knees and sob.

Instead, her fingers flexed, bunching up the fabric of his expertly tailored suit. He was the only one that could make her feel better when the memories overwhelmed her, and yet now, even he would shun her, disgusted by her. But still, she didn't want to let him go, and so she clung to him, desperate to hold him to her, waiting for him to shove her away.

"Belle," There was such utter devastation in his voice, such raw agony, as his fingers traced the lines his eyes could not see but his mind gave picture too. She closed her eyes, not wanting to hear him say the next words, terrified she'd shatter into a million pieces. His head dropped, his mouth so close to her ear, "Oh, Belle, what have I done?" His tone was so soft, so gentle, it broke her heart to hear it. But it wasn't the condemnation she thought she'd hear, and as he pulled her closer, she knew she'd been wrong.

He wouldn't push her away this time.

The bitter laugh broke into her perfect moment, the words crashing across her consciousness to sink in and scald. "That's right, why do you care? Screw the rest of us. You've got your piece of tail after all."

The grip across her back shifted, reaching around her side before tugging, hard, and it took Izzy a full second to realize he'd shoved her behind him. His hand was still at her waist, and she could just see around his arm the look of dawning fear on Leroy's face.

So when Leroy was unceremoniously spun on his heels, Isabelle followed his direction, right into the enraged face of Ruby, who pulled back her well-manicured hand, and smacked him across the face so hard, he stumbled backwards against the counter top.

"Ruby!" Was that Izzy's voice sounding so panic stricken, it didn't sound like her voice?

Her soul sister didn't even look at her, just reached out and grabbed Leroy's bad arm and dug her fingers in. His cry of pain went completely unnoticed by the vixen, who used momentum and his own pain, to swing him around her body, and shove him down the short aisle way, her knee high black boot coming up to kick him in the ass the rest of the way. The pain and shock were clear when he looked up, as was the shame. He realized now, what he'd said, and who he'd said it to.

"Rub-"

"Get out!" Ruby grabbed the forgotten coffee server, lifting it into her hand and brandishing it like a club. "Get out, and don't you ever, ever step foot in this diner again!" Mini skirt and crop top riding high, she advanced on him. "Get out!"

Coming to his senses, Leroy stumbled to his feet and backed away, making it to the door before he stopped, clutching the edge as he turned back and offered Izzy a shame filled look, "I-I'm sor-"

"Get out!" The coffee pot went sailing, by luck, slamming into the metal door frame and shattering instead of breaking the glass door itself. Coffee and glass sloshed across the floor as Leroy took one last look at Ruby before ducking out the door.

It was then Izzy realized she had one hand covering her mouth in shock and the other gripping the sleeve of Mr. Gold's blazer. She had never, never in her entire life, seen Ruby that angry.

"R-Ruby?" The dark haired girl whirled, bold red streaks flying around her like a halo as her enraged blue eyes found Isabelle's. Two steps, and Ruby was elbowing Gold out of the way, and grabbing onto Izzy's arm. "Ruby?"

"Go up stairs!" The rage was still there, so raw and thick it filled the room. Izzy tried again, laying her hand on her sister's arm comfortingly.

"Ruby, it's ok-"

"It'll never be ok, with pigs like that in the world! Now go up stairs!" Ruby gave her a shove towards the back door.

"But-"

"I said get!" And the look she gave Izzy told her that this was not the time to argue. So Izzy looked past her best friend, her eyes going once more to those ageless ones so filed with concern for her, before she turned around and raced through the door and up the stairs, Ruby's voice following her the entire way. "Is that what you wanted? Is that what you want for her!"

She ran past Granny in the hallway, coming down the stairs to see what all the screaming and yelling was about, but when Gran called her name, she didn't look back, just raced on down the darkening hallway to her room, before throwing herself onto her bed and giving in to wracking sobs.

Isabelle found though, she didn't know exactly why she was crying. Was it because of what Leroy had said, or because Ruby had yelled at her; or because she was so exhausted by a day of reliving the worst moments of her life?

Or was it possible, they weren't tears of sadness at all?

Because he had touched her shame, and he had not pulled away.

He'd pulled her closer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Standing over the sink, Rumplestiltskin struggled to breath. His leg throbbed to the wild beating of his heart, but his struggle not to toss into the basin consumed his focus. Sweat poured from his brow and down his naked chest as he heaved but managed to hold down what little remained of his dinner. Long fingers gripped the porcelain rim and he closed his eyes as he heaved yet again.

What had he done?

Right hand shaking, he reached out to turn the faucet on, brining a sloppy handful of cold water to his mouth to clear the taste of bile. He was shaking now, his body reacting to the memories that continued to flood his mind as the curse worked its newest resident into the matrix that made up their bed of lies.

He hadn't figured it out, he hadn't seen it! She'd been so small and frail, walking past his windowed shop, her eyes glancing in to find him before catching sight of her own reflection and looking away. She'd barely been sixteen, and even though he knew the events had never actually transpired, what lived in the mind was real enough to leave scars.

Ten years ago, the whirling lights of the police car had caught his attention as he'd made his way home. The fact that the commotion was directly outside Belle's front door would have had him stopping on its own, but to see her father being dragged out in cuffs, Graham who was usually too gentle, roughing the bulky man up, had giving him a sinking feeling of dread. He'd parked across the street, grabbed his cane and opened the driver's side door just in time to hear Little Red Ridding Hood call out her best friend's name, "Belle!"

Closing the door, he watched her run up to the waifish child, saw Belle enveloped in a huge warm brown blanket, Granny at her side. But as the dark haired girl passed her grandmother the package, Belle looked up, and he caught his first sight of her in two weeks. Her small, childlike face was battered and bruised, broken and discolored. But despite that, her usually gentle hands came up and tore the blanket from around herself, hurling it at her young friend.

There in the full moon's light, he saw the white tee shirt she wore, and upon it, the long thin lines of blood that crisscrossed her torso, so thick and heavy in some places, it was more red than white. Where her voice had always been so kind, her smile so full of life, she advanced on her friend, heedless of those around her trying to hold her back. And her words, her damning words told him, her unhappy ending in this world had only just begun. "I trusted you! I told you, and you promised, you promised!"

The gothic teen withdrew, her head shaking back and forth. "Izzy, I had to! I had to tell! I couldn't let him keep hurting you, I had to tell!"

He was across the street now, watching his little angel, the girl who so often sat in his window box sharing his afternoons in complete silence, an open book in her lap, her eyes dancing back and forth across the page, as Isabelle ran at her friend, her hand clawed, and smacked Ruby across the face before roaring and pushing her into the muddy grass. Ruby, taller and more athletic, did not fight back, just cried and begged, "I had to, Izzy, I had too!"

But some move Isabelle performed next caused her entire body to lock up and pull taunt before she screamed out in pain and fell to her knees dipping her back, her face lifted to the heavens, with such a look of pain, he thought he could feel her suffering from ten feet away. Instead, he saw the back of her tee shirt and realized he had yet to see the worst of her injuries. There was no white left, blood bloomed, fresh and wet across her back, dripping down her sides and into the short summer grass. Her agony was clear when a moment later, she lost herself and collapsed to the ground and did not move.

He reached her side just as Granny bent over to check on her. Dropping to his knees, his hand shot out, brushing back the matted hair, once so lustrous with auburn brilliance, now dull, greasy, and matted with her blood. "Belle! Belle!" He cared little when he pushed Granny's hands away, rolling the child over and heard the moan of pain issue from broken lips. "Belle," he gasped, seeing the damage up close, seeing his Beauty reduced to…

"I had to tell! I had to tell! I had to, I had too, I HAD TOO TELL!" Ruby was inconsolable, her hands reaching out to her friend, only to be pulled back by her grandmother, who tried to issue her comfort. But in those blue eyes, he saw the doubt, the self hatred, the guilt, and the touch of madness that he'd seen so very, very long ago, in a different world.

By itself, his hand reached out, and touched the girl's face, caught her eye, and nodded his head. "You had to tell, Ruby. You did the right thing." He didn't know the extent of the damage yet, he didn't know just how broken she was, but as sanity filtered back into those baby blue eyes, he felt vindicated of a sin he'd committed so long ago. When he'd bargained with a grandmother, and damned a granddaughter, still young and innocent, with his promise; a fact that had never set well with him, and for which he made the grandmother pay for now that his memories remained and hers were gone.

Before him, Ruby nodded, and at that he released her from his gaze and turned his attention back to the broken girl in his arms. How, had he let this happen? He'd been so careful! He'd watched her, every day, invited her in with a promise of solitude in an otherwise exuberant teenage life. He'd asked simple questions and had assured himself that she was happy, healthy, and poised to grow into the exceptional woman he knew she would become. But somewhere in the two weeks since he'd last seen her, in the time she'd told him she and her father were going camping, he'd lessened his hold on her, and look what had happened!

"Sir, Mr. Gold, you need to let her go, we need to take her to the hospital." He recognized the sound of Doc, once a dwarf, now the town's EMT, but he couldn't release her. Looking down at her now, seeing her so close, his eyes traveled the length of her, and he cried out, a sound he hadn't heard in a very long time, at the image of three crosses on her lower abdomen, burned into her flesh, the skin bubbled, broken and bleeding. His hand went to her cheek, and when someone tried to pull her away, he resisted, hurling obscenities as he clung to her, the girl he'd now failed twice.

Strong arms had locked his own behind his back, and he roared in denial as she was taken from him, moved carefully, lovingly, to the waiting stretcher. Behind him, a man stood, dragging him up as he rose before swinging him around and giving him a sold shake. "Mr. Gold!" Graham, the sheriff and the Queen's lackey, "We need to get her to the hospital!"

Hours later, at the hospital, he walked the dimly lit hallways of three am, towards the room where she lay sleeping. Her surgery had reduced one nurse to a sobbing puddle outside the operating doors, but it wasn't until Dr. Whale had emerged to talk with Graham that they learned the truth. "She's been tortured. Her body, it's," he collected himself, "she's covered in lacerations and what appear to be burn marks. It's bad, Sheriff, very, very bad."

In his arms, he carried a small teddy bear, a trinket he'd found in the gift shop. As he rounded the doorway, he saw that she was not asleep as he'd been told to expect, but wide awake, her eyes like saucers, staring at the door, but seeing nothing. He paused in the doorway, watching the monitors around her beep and blink with white and green lights. Numbers flashed, but they meant little. Instead, he focused on her face, dark and swollen, nothing like the beautiful girl who'd winked so conspiratorially with him behind the backs of his bothersome customers. The blankets were tucked low at her waist, and wrapped around her torso were layers and layers of sterile, white gauze, yet despite it, clearly visible in a sickly yellowish red color which had bled through the bandages, were the three crosses that had been branded into her flesh.

He barely made it to the chair by her bedside before he lost the ability to support his own weight. His hand came up to cover his mouth in horror as his eyes took in the image before him. How, how had he let this happen?

Three days later she was coherent but speaking to no one. She could barely move for all the pain, so they'd propped her up against a number of pillows. But her head was always turned away from her visitors, and her hand clenched the thin blankets as high as she could, until it rested right under her chin. She didn't complain about the pain, just allowed it to build until it overwhelmed her and she passed out from exhaustion.

On this day, Granny had been forced to remove Ruby from Belle's silent fury, and he had taken their place, watching the girl stare out the window through bloodshot eyes. He watched her hand, the IV tape taunt across her skin, as she struggled to pull the thin blanket higher still. He didn't trust himself to talk to her, so he'd remained silent, watching her as she struggled to remain conscious despite the morphine pump which she refused to use.

She tugged once again on the blanket, but the action pulled her stitches and she gasped, screwing her eyes closed and whimpering deep in her chest.

And at that, he'd been unable to tolerate further, her foolishness. From next to her he rose from his chair and gently pried the morphine pump from her vice like grip. At his touch she withdrew into the mountain of pillows, her eyes wide, full of fear, caught between where she was, the pain, and her memories. His silent eyes found hers and held them, as he lifted the morphine pump and hit the trigger, once, twice, and then a third time. Almost instantly, he saw her eyes flutter with relief as the soothing medication dulled her senses and eased her pain. He continued to stand there, holding her eyes, and watching her, taking note of the tension in her muscles as he clicked the button a fourth time. Finally, she let go with a sigh, easing back no longer in fear but in relief. Her eyes did not leave him, though they clouded over, and he was certain now, for the first time in days, she would finally rest easy.

His right hand reached out, brushing back the hair from her face, and though her eyes followed his hand, she did not pull away. He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, heard her sigh and close her eyes against the sensation. When she opened them again, she looked up at him and in her expression, he saw her forgiveness.

His gasp came without warning, and his hand dropped the pump to fist instead into her thin covers. His shoulders hunched and he drew a gasping breath yet again, only this time, what followed was an uncharacteristic sob. Giving in, he caved in on himself, sobbing quietly before the broken girl, who with but a look forgave him all his many, many sins. She saw with innocent eyes, not the beast, but the man.

How long he stood there, he didn't know, but eventually, he felt the soft caress of her small hand against his, and he looked up into her foggy dream like expression. Her fingers flexed again, and she tried to lift her hand, but it was too much for her, and instead she did what she could, she told the truth, "I love you."

By the next day, he was sure she'd forgotten the entire exchange and had instead brought her something he thought might ease her mind, if only a fraction. Walking through the door, he'd exchanged a look with Dr. Hopper, who'd stood and moved from his beside vigil. The good doctor had been making a little headway with her, or so he'd been told; it seemed she would speak with him, if only in monosyllables. He walked towards the bed, his bundle held together with a white ribbon. Her eyes were guarded but calm as she'd regarded him, her hand still twitching as she tried to pull the blanket even higher. Carefully, slowly, he placed the bundle in her lap, offered her a soft smile, and sat in his chair.

"How are you today, Belle?" Her eyes had skirted from his at the question, and instead she looked down at the white satin ribbon, the fingers at her throat dropping to touch its softness. He indicated the package. "You may open it, if you wish."

She glanced at him again, her fingers playing with the ribbon once again. Hesitantly, she chewed on the inside of her lip before she gave herself a little nod and pulled on the ribbon. It came loose easily, unfolding as if by magic in her lap. Both hands then, came up and tugged on the corners of the fluffy material, and as she held it up, it became apparent it was a fluffy gray sweater. Startled, she looked over at him, and he smiled kindly. She didn't seem to know what to do with it, continuing to hold it up despite the fact that her arms shook from exhaustion.

Dr. Hopper walked to the other side of her hospital bed. "Look Isabelle, isn't this wonderful. Mr. Gold noticed how you've been fighting with the blankets and he brought you something to keep warm. Wasn't that nice of him?" The condescending tone irritated him, but as he watched, Belle lowered her arms and then nodded her head before looking over at him again before pulling the sweater in against her chest. Dr. Hopper smiled and reached for one of the corners of the sweater, "Here, why don't we put this on." She didn't fight him, but lifted her arms as best she could. It became apparent the IV would not work with the sweater, so Dr. Hopper just pulled the whole thing down over her right arm. Despite the high turtle neck being pulled over her head, as soon as she was free of it, he realized, her face had never turned away from his, her eyes locked on him, searching for something.

With the sweater in place, she pulled away from the doctor and leaned her body carefully back against the pillows once again, her face turned towards him, her expression blank.

He smiled at her, and tried again, "How are you today, Belle?"

And as if it had been their routine from the very beginning, her expression softened, her eyes grew warmer, and she blinked before answering, "I'm good, Mr. Gold, how are you today?"

* * *

><p>Once again, his mind back in the bathroom, he felt the memories crash against his mind, bitter and raw. He hunched over, agony in knowing that he had not been able to protect her, doubled him over in pain. His entire being shook at the memories he fought and welcomed at the same time.<p>

* * *

><p>"What game are you playing at, Mr. Gold? I come to you in good faith and you mock me where I stand?"<p>

Granny was a haggard woman, Ruby was still nearly inconsolable, and with Belle living under her roof now, she had two broken teenage girls to manage. The desperation that prompted her to arrive at his shop, was a well orcastrated plan on his part. He'd intended for the balloon payment on her loan to come due around Ruby's sixteenth birthday, long ago, eager to make the woman taste her own bitter medicine, and his revenge for the deal he'd made against the child, but now she had opened her home to his Belle, taken her in while lawyers fought, and judges considered. He owed her, and in truth, the debt he owed her was larger than the one she owed to him.

"I never mock with my bargains. You now have the terms, I suggest you make your decision quickly."

He had already made arrangements with Dr. Hopper so that Belle saw him twice a week. The man received free rent for his place of business in exchange for taking the girl as his client. The good doctor had seemed started at his offer, free rent, so long as he saw both Belle and Ruby whenever they needed it, but the man had agreed, and he'd walked away knowing both girls would get what they needed from a man they seemed to trust. He knew Belle was making some progress, the allergy prone pharmacist had given him a full list of her medications when he'd threatened a fifty percent raise in rent, and he knew she no longer needed the worst of the pain medications. The cricket had her on a number of pills, but he'd seen her sitting on the porch of the inn, rocking quietly in the swing, wrapped in that silly gray sweater he'd given her so many weeks ago.

"You expect me to believe, you're prepared to give me that much money and all you want in exchange is a slice of pie whenever you want one?!"

At this his eyes grew impossibly cold, and he advanced so suddenly on the woman that she drew back, directly into one of his display cabinets. The fear on her face told him his fury was showing, and he reigned it in lest he damage the bargain. "You came to me seeking money to care for, Belle," he hissed through his teeth, "I will eliminate the balloon payment on the diner and the inn as well as give you what you've asked for, provided she is well cared for." He leaned in, far too close to her, his eyes burrowing into hers, "But if I find out that she is being mistreated, she or your young granddaughter, then know that crossing my generosity will prove very, very disagreeable. Do you understand?" She nodded and he glared at her, "Then say it!"

She drew in a gasping breath and let it out in a rush, "Deal."

A few weeks later, one of Cinderella's boorish step-sisters alerted him to the fact that his Belle was now waiting tables in the diner during the evening shift. He'd been furious, had closed his shop, shooing out one of the three billy goats, now kingpins in the only criminal ring that operated inside Storybrooke. With his cane clicking furiously, he'd barreled down the sidewalk intent on reminding that stupid old woman what his wrath felt like. But as he'd pushed into the diner, a sound he hadn't expected to hear for some time hit him hard and fast, making his heart pound in his chest.

She had her long brown hair twisted into a knot at the back of her neck, delicate wisps floating around her face, and that one stubborn curl that refused to mind. She was wearing the same gray sweater she wore every day, but he barely noticed it for what action she was taking. She had a wooden spoon in her hand, held out in front of her like a sword and behind the counter, as the diner patrons watched in amusement, she clashed her spoon against the equally menacing one held by Ruby as the two threw mocking insults and filled the diner with laughter and giggles. Stunned into silence, he watched the two girls playing, heard Belle's brilliant accent float on the air as she boasted about her technique, and Ruby's louder one insisting her strength would win. He saw them grapple for a moment, before Ruby, true to her nature, played a dirty move, and brought them both tumbling to the floor into a heap of giggles. Belle managed her feet first, and then bowed to the clapping patrons before her eyes found his. The smile that broke across her face filled his empty heart, and he returned it with uncharacteristic, but equal measure. Grabbing a menu, she walked over to him, still smiling, "This way, Mr. Gold."

* * *

><p>No longer able to maintain the strain, his leg gave out, and he tumbled to the bathroom floor, his back hitting the wall as he slid down it, gasping for breath and drenched in his own sweat.<p>

He closed his eyes against the memories, not wanting to relive them, knowing how much he'd failed her.

* * *

><p>She was wearing that fluffy gray sweater again, and he damned himself for giving it to her, as she used it more as a shield now than he'd ever wanted her too. The bright lights of the fire truck were flashing behind him, and he could see the Queen, standing to the side, smirking at him, as she instructed the chief to pull his men off the cliff, it was too dangerous to risk any more lives to save one hopeless girl.<p>

Ruby in her short skirt and stiletto heels, was further than any of the hired help, her hand outstretched, pleading with her best friend, "Izzy, you don't want to do this! Come on! Come back! Please, Izzy, please, come back! "

Belle was standing on the very edge, her back to the dozens of people trying to rescue her. The winds were violent today, whipping her free hair into a frenzy around her still too thin frame. Her arms hugged herself, as if steeling herself for what she was about to do, but her head tilted backwards just enough for him to be certain she was listening to her friend.

"Ruby! Ruby, you need to come back from there!" Dr. Hopper was making his way to the girls, ignoring the protests of the firefighters around him. "Ruby!"

"I'm not leaving her! I'm not leaving her out there! I'm not letting her go! Izzy! Izzy, you have to come back, please, please come back!"

"Ruby!"

"No! I'm not going to lose her like I lost my parents! Izzy! Izzy, please!"

As he knew she would, she turned, her eyes tear stained and red from her sobs and the raging winds. She teetered for a moment and then corrected herself, her eyes going to Ruby's, her voice so quiet it could barely be heard, "Please go Ruby…please let me go…"

"Never!" Ruby took another step, despite the protests of those watching, "I'm never going to do that, Isabelle! You held me together, and now it's my turn. You wouldn't let me go, and I'm not going to let you go either!"

She shook her head, teetering once again on the edge. "I'm tired, Ruby. I'm so tired." She hugged herself tighter, closing her eyes and swaying dangerously.

"NO! Isabelle French, you look at me! Look at me!" She took another step, loose gravel tumbling over the edge as Dr. Hopper fought his way towards them, still too far away. But his Belle did as she was told, opening her eyes to look at her best friend, the tears streaming down her cheeks, a testament to the pain that had driven her here, so close to madness. "You're stronger than this, Izzy! You and me! We're stronger than this together! You think I'm ever going to let him hurt you again?! You think I'd let that bastard get within ten feet of you?!"

She shook her head again, her hair flying in every direction, "They didn't believe me, Ruby. They let him go. They didn't believe me." Her right hand came up then to cover half her face, as if she could hide behind it and forget the injustice that had befallen her by the Queen's hands, though Belle had no idea.

Ruby took another step, "Who cares what they think! Fuck them! I believe you! I believe you Izzy, I know, and I'm never going to let it happen again, never!" She took another step, and then another, "I don't want to lose you, Izzy! I can't! You have to be strong, you have to be strong with me. I-I can't do this without you." The raven haired girl faltered, her voice catching for the first time. "I can't, Izzy, I just can't."

Belle turned around then, back towards the waiting expanse of emptiness. Over her shoulder she answered her best friend. "You're stronger than you know, Ruby. You can do this. You can make it. I know you can. I-I'm just so tired."

"NO!" Rushing forward, Ruby tripped, sending rocks cascading over the edge, but she scrambled to her feet, and faster than any of them expected, she closed the gap between them and grabbed the other girl's arm before sliding it down to take her hand. Belle turned to face her, but Ruby did the unthinkable, and instead of pulling her friend back, walked right up to the edge, still holding her hand.

Whatever they said to each other next, only they knew. Their words were for each other alone, no one else necessary to bring into their pain. He watched as Ruby squared her shoulders, as Belle turned her gaze on her best friend. Watched in stunned silence with all the rest then, when after less than a minute, Isabelle turned around and looked right at him, stared at him with a look even now he could not place, before she whispered something that Ruby nodded too. And then, as if as one, the two of them stepped away from the edge, before Belle lifted her hand to cup Ruby's face, and the raven haired girl, pulled her best friend into a crushing embrace that dropped them to the rocky ground just as Dr. Hopper reached them, and physically dragged them further back, desperate to hold onto them both.

* * *

><p>The water still running in the basin, he ran his shaking hand through his hair, the perspiration so heavy his hand nearly glided through. He leaned back, letting his head hit the wall as he looked up from his fallen perspective.<p>

* * *

><p>The next time he saw her at the cliffs, there were no bullhorns or screaming sisters, there had been no flashing lights or smug mayors; she had been just sitting on the edge, looking down, throwing pills from her dozen or so medicine bottles over the side. She had of course, heard him, his bad leg dragged over the loose gravel loud enough to alert only the most deaf person to his presence. But she hadn't turned around, just continued to toss one brightly colored pill after another over the side. When he'd managed to settle down next to her, his own feet dangling dangerous, he saw that her expression was blank and her eyes showed her to be very far away from him.<p>

He turned and looked out over the emptiness, missing her return to reality.

"You shouldn't be out here." She didn't look at him, but continued to throw the medication.

He looked at her, scrutinizing her features, "Neither should you, dearie."

She nodded, turning to look at him, and she upset the entire bottle of orange pills and then let the bottle drop from her hand over the side. "I know."

Regarding her for a moment, he reached across her and snatched one of the open bottles, reading the label and recognized it as an antipsychotic. "Don't fancy them?" He handed it to her.

"They make me feel dead inside." She opened the bottle and resumed throwing them one at a time. "If I'm going to walk around feeling dead all the time, I might as well just get it over with."

Grabbing his cane up, he reached it across her body and used it to sweep the remaining pill bottles over the side, hearing them tinkle like broken glass as they fell. He pulled back in time to see her looking up at him, her eyes wide and startled by his action. With a tisk, he took the other bottle from her hand and pitched it over the side as well before turning back to look down at her. She was still so very young, but he saw in her face now, the beginnings of the planes and angles that would one day make her match his perfect memory.

"There," he said, gazing into her eyes with a soft smile on his face, "Gone." He moved his cane so that it sat in his lap.

Next to him, she remained startled, shaking her head. "Aren't you supposed to tell me that they're helping me, that they're making me better?"

"No," his expression grew dark, "Nothing that makes you feel as you described, could be making you better." He turned away, lest his anger scare her. "Tomorrow, you'll see Dr. Hopper and tell him he has you on far too many pills and potions. He'll correct his folly."

Silence fell for a moment between them, then, "Potions?" And the way she said it, so incredulous, had him turning. For the first time, in a long time, light shone in her eyes, and her smile while barely there, was indeed real.

He shrugged, "An expression."

After a second, she stood, dusted off her jeans and took a step away from the ledge before offering him her hand, "Did you bring your car up here?" He took it, nodding his head as she helped him to stand. When he caught her expression again, it took his breath away. Her look was mischievous, "Can I drive us back to town?"

He set his cane down once again, and lightly touched her back to propel her forward. "Absolutely, not."

* * *

><p>The sound of his hollow laughter filled the small privy. His head was now in his hands, but he dropped them, leaning forward to work his way into a crawl, and then grabbed the counter top as a brace to help him stand. Annoyed, his hand shot out and turned off the faucet as his hand came up and gripped the door and then the doorframe as he propelled himself back into his bedroom. The night was still thick and heavy, the clock reading 1:37am. He walked to the edge of the bed, sat, and leaned his elbows against his knees. Drawing in a deep breath he looked out the back window, watching the light twist and dance magical as it reflected off the heated pool in his back yard.<p>

He needed sleep. If the memory of her was affecting him so, then it would be wreaking havoc on his beauty. His hands flexed, his fingers remembering the lines of raised skin they had felt for the first time. Baring his teeth, he damned the Queen. Belle would feel as if every memory had happened just yesterday, forced to experience things that should have faded from her memory. He cursed aloud and stalked over to the closet, opening the door and stepping through. At the back, covered by a large blanket, was a tall rectangle. He reached his hand out and pulled the cloth aside, exposing a reflection of his own image.

He was old, too old for her, and yet she hadn't seemed to mind. He was wire and sinew, and perhaps a tad too thin. His hair was plastered to his skull at the top, but cascaded to his shoulders in nearly fully formed curls. But as he looked up, as his eyes met his own, they were not the eyes of Mr. Gold, but of the dark being who had taken over his soul. He smiled into the mirror, knowing as it shimmered just so, that a thousand miles away, or across town, that wicked sow was watching him. He smiled evilly at his reflection.

"Can't sleep, dearie? Dreams bothering you; a touch of, madness perhaps." He leered at the mirror. "You know," he cocked his head to the side as if pondering something, "it seems to me, that had things worked out differently, your Magesty, I might actually be thanking you." With a step, he pulled away from the mirror, his hands dancing wildly in the air, "Imagine, her life could have been ideal. Loving father, caring mother, maybe a sister or three to keep her company.

"Perhaps she could have been a brilliant doctor, or a school teacher, like the lovely Miss Blanchard." He grinned knowingly at the mirror, visualizing the searing hatred that would surely be upon her features. "Or perhaps a librarian, maybe a wife, with one or two pudgy little ones tugging on her skirt." Then he turned from the mirror, "But no, you wished for a world without happy endings, a place so evil, it would rival the vengeance in your heart. You wanted a place where you could rule forever, making their little lives miserable, and I gave it to you." He turned back, but this time, he was no longer Mr. Gold, once again in the finest leather, with his shimmering grayish gold skin and twisted smile. "I gave you the prefect curse because, as you well knew, with her dead, I had no reason not to. What would I care about their happiness when I would be just as powerful in this world? When with but a simple 'please'," he dragged that word out, "I could have you jumping over cabbages if I desired."

Rage then, dark and violent shot through him, so that he slammed his palms into either side of the mirror, his face twisting with fury, "But she didn't become a doctor, or a teacher, or a simple wife, no, my curse made this life just as cruel for her as the last. Worse, if these late memories are to be believed."

He shook his head and pulled back, "Had you given her to me when we but arrived here, I would have borne you no ill will, Majesty. I would have taken her and ensured her happiness despite this little, curse." His hand twisted as if in a fleeting gesture. "Had you but given me what was mine, all things would have been drawn even. Oh, I would have made you suffer, let's not kid ourselves my dear, but I would have happily let you go on being the Queen of our little slice of hell.

"But you stole from me," He glanced at the mirror, seeing his full power fill the room with vengeful light, "hid her from me, so that my curse had to fill in all the gaps in her memory. And ho, it has proven to be one of my better spells indeed."

Suddenly, his hand shot out, and straight through the mirror and into whatever hole the Wicked Queen had dug for herself, and as he wrapped his fingers around the throat he could not see and squeezed, he spoke. "She suffers, dearie, and mark my words well, for a promise made by Rumplestiltskin is a promise kept, I will see you suffer a hundred times for each lashings she took, each scar that mars her perfection, each sad thought that ever flitted across her mind. And if I cannot save her," he squeezed tighter, heard through the mirror her cry of pain, "You will learn well exactly why they call me The Dark One."

With a shove, he released his grip and pulled his hand back through the mirror before shooting out his other hand and smashing the glass to pieces.

"If I cannot save her, all will suffer for her pain!" He shouted into the ether, and by his will alone, sparks of magic released into the sleepy town of Storybrooke, Maine, and deep in their slumber, dreams turned dark and twisted, filled with terrors, and the promise of still more to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The soft knock on Izzy's bedroom door was a welcome diversion for the nightmares that had plagued her sleep. "Izzy," came the hesitant voice, "are you awake?"

Isabelle nodded and then smiled to herself. She was sitting up in bed, had been since the last nightmare. She cleared her throat, "Yeah," she whispered.

Ruby pushed open the door, and stepped inside, closing it behind her. "I thought I heard you rustling around in here." She was adorable, gone where the short shorts and cropped tops, instead she was dressed in a Happy Bunny sleeper shirt with the phrase, 'You may bow before me now' printed in bold script. Her hair was braided into two low farmer pigtails, and on her feet were fluffy slippers shaped like wolf heads.

Against the headboard, Izzy nodded. "Yeah, couldn't sleep." She indicated the soggy mass of sweat soaked clothes at the foot of her bed, "Been having nightmares."

Ruby nodded and then walked over to the bed, shoving her best friend over and crawling under the covers. A long, perfect arm wrapped around Izzy's shoulder, and she leaned into the comforting embrace of her forever friend. "Wanna talk about it?"

She laughed self-depreciatingly, "No, not really."

"Well do it anyway. It'll take my mind off my own nightmares."

Izzy pulled back, looking up at Ruby's face, and for the first time, seeing the dark smudges under her eyes. That wasn't generally like Ruby, who slept like the dead. "What happened? Are you ok?"

Ruby nodded, "I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. Leroy was so out of line today, and then you wouldn't come down for dinner, and I saw you didn't eat the tray Gran brought up for you. Are the meds upsetting your stomach?"

Evasion was Ruby's favorite way of not talking about herself. Shifting out from under her friend's arm, Isabelle turned so she was sitting facing her heart sister. "My stomach is fine, I just wasn't hungry. Now spill."

Ruby sighed, and it was a testament to how much her dream was bothering her that she gave in without further protest. "I had that dream about Gran again."

Isabelle didn't hesitate, she leaned forward and pulled Ruby's head into her lap and immediately began running her fingers through her hair.

She felt the first tear soak through her pajama bottoms a moment later, though as always, Ruby's tears were silent. Isabelle remained silent as well, and eventually, Ruby's whisper soft voice told her tale. "This time, Gran shot my mom." Izzy wanted to cry for her, but instead leaned down and kissed her temple. Ruby just closed her eyes and continued, "The man came again, he pounded on the door and I ran and opened it, and there he was, holding up a severed head, and even though I couldn't see it, I knew it was my dad's head." She drew in a shaky breath. "Then we were in the kitchen, here in the house and my mom was screaming next too the fridge, and Gran pulled out a shotgun and just...she just..." Ruby couldn't continue, and Izzy knew she wouldn't. The dreams were always the same, Ruby would be standing next to her mom or dad, and through one means or another, Gran would kill them, right in front of her. Dr. Hopper told her once that her subconscious mind was trying to give her an outlet for her anger at her parent's horrible car accident which had claimed their lives and that of her unborn brother. And that seemed like a good explanation, because always after the dreams, Ruby would get herself into some kind of trouble, and she and Gran would have it out. Back in the old days, before Isabelle lived under the same roof, Ruby would come to spend the night at Izzy's house, insisting that she was never going to go back and live with her Granny. But Izzy and time would usually convince her within a couple of days, that it was time to go home, and Granny was always so worried about her.

Ruby never doubted the fact that her Gran loved her, but she couldn't help being bitter that it was Granny her parents had been going out to see.

Izzy brushed back her hair a few more times and then just laid her warm hand on the side of Ruby's neck. "I'm really, sorry you had the dream again, Ruby." The girl nodded, but said nothing. Izzy shifted, and Ruby sat up, "Come on, two person sleeping bag."

Ruby gave a half smile as she wiped away the tear tracks before scooting to her side of the bed and shimming down under the covers until both were cocooned in a mountain of blankets with just their heads and their four joined hands peeking out over the covers. This time, Ruby offered a real smile. "I love you, Izzy."

"I love you too, Ruby."

"Sisters forever?"

"Sister's forever, and ever, and ever!"

They giggled before Ruby pulled their hands to her lips and kissed Izzy's thumb. "We are way too old to be doing this sort of shit, you know that, right?"

Izzy shrugged, "Says who?"

The raven haired girl chuckled, "Um, probably everyone, but for sure Dr. Hopper, who would probably diagnose us as closet lesbians and recommend shaved heads instead of pills."

"Eww!" Isabelle cried softly, nuzzling her loose hair. "I'm never going to shave my head."

"Yeah, I'll eat my own cooking before I do that!" They laughed, like school girls, caught up in the giddy, light headed experience of too little sleep.

Eventually they both closed their eyes and just enjoyed the warmth of each other's company. It was a long time until Ruby broke the silent world they'd spontaneously created.

"So, did I see lover boy copping a feel this afternoon?" Izzy opened her eyes to see Ruby's beautiful blue ones searching her soul. This, it would seem, was what Ruby was really concerned about.

Isabelle was herself, still confused about the incident. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers against her skin, now nearly twelve hours later. She continued to stare into Ruby's beautiful blue eyes, and her voice came out stronger, more sure of herself than she thought it would, "He didn't push me away."

At this, Ruby's features became pinched; she loosened her hand from the knot in front of them and brushed back Izzy's hair. "Well, that's because he's not stupid. He knows I would have kicked his goblin ass all the way back to-"

"Stop." Izzy's voice came out exhausted from the fight that was again going to replay itself this night it seemed. Ruby hated Mr. Gold, no matter how many times Izzy tried to change her mind. "I guess, I guess I always imagined that if he ever saw them, he'd...I don't know, think I was...disgusting or something." Her words died out as she spoke them.

Across from her Ruby scoffed, the breath rustling that stubborn curl to fall across Izzy's forehead. "Don't be an idiot." She pushed the curl back into place. "I may not like him, no, I take that back, I definitely don't like him, find him creepy, and generally wish he'd get hit by falling space junk, but the guy's not stupid."

Smiling, Izzy rolled her eyes, "You always have such nice things to say, Ruby."

"Sorry, I said the nicest thing I could. I thought I did pretty well considering who we're talking about."

They both chuckled, knowing this was the only truce they'd ever have on the subject. It was no longer awkward, just stale as far as Isabelle was concerned. After a moment, Ruby sobered, "Seriously though, I'm glad for you at least; I know you were worried about that, you know, him seeing your scars."

Nodding, she looked back at their joined hands, and despite knowing no good could come of it, voiced her amazement anyway. "He, he pulled me closer, Ruby. He pulled me so close, and held me, and he smelled like cedar and dust, just like I remember from his shop."

Ruby shook her head, "I have no doubt he smelled like dust, that guy is a dinosaur." She smiled when Isabelle scoffed and rushed forward before Izzy could defend him. "Besides, like I've told you a hundred times, he's gay."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, "He's not gay."

Ruby smiled, knowing she'd taken the bait. "Look, we've known him forever, and I've never seen him with any other chica, so I think the facts speak pretty clearly for themselves. He probably touched soft skin instead of hairy skin and his brain just melted or something."

"His brain did not melt! I swear, you're terrible! And we don't know he hasn't had a...well a girlfriend before, I mean, well, he, I mean..." Slowly her voice died out as that familiar ache began in her chest. He didn't, he just couldn't, she'd have known, right? It hurt so bad to think that he might have someone else.

Ruby scoffed, "Please, we'd know, this town is way too small for us not to know. Unless he's built a tunnel under his house to the Mayor's and they're getting it on while Henry-"

Isabelle's hand shot out and covered that smiling mouth. "Number one, that's impossible, number two, that is the most disgusting mental image I have ever had in my life!"

"Oh come on! The way the two of them bicker and circle around each other, they're either ex-lovers or ex-spouses, or, well, I don't even know what else they could be, but whatever it is, it probably isn't legal in 49 out of 50 states...probably ok in Kentucky though...maybe Alabama."

They laughed, Izzy shoving her playfully in the shoulder, "They're not not kissing cousins."

"Ha! Like that's a bad thing! Come here Izzy, give me a smoochy, smooch!"

They giggled and laughed and fought under the comforting darkness, becoming children again, if just for a few stolen hours.

* * *

><p>Snow White sat up in bed, the sound of her scream dying as she came awake. She clutched at her stomach, desperate to feel the round fullness of her unborn baby. But her stomach was flat, and she wrenched the covers away as she cried out.<p>

"Snow! Snow, what's wrong?" James sat up beside her, taking her wrists into his hands, holding her as gently as he could while she fought him.

"Emma! Emma! Oh god, she killed her, she killed her!" The mourning keen filled the room with a mother's ultimate despair, and James could do little other than to gather her into his arms and rock her back and forth.

"No, Snow, no, she's alright, she's fine. Shhh, Emma is fine, she's fine."

Slowly, reality filtered back into her mind, filling the void and reminding her of where she was. With a lurch, she pulled away from her Prince and grabbed the phone, dialing the number she knew by heart.

"Snow?" James asked, but she had nothing more to spare for him now.

It rang for what seemed like forever.

At the click, her eyes widened in temporary fear, desperate to hear the voice on the other end, to remind herself that her last nightmare, unlike the one they now all lived in, was not real.

"This had better be unbelievably important or I'm going to arrest you!"

The sob caught in her throat, and the beautiful Snow White could do nothing more than bring her hand to her mouth. The tears came then, full and round, tears she had yet to shed for the years she'd lost, for the countless memories she would never know, and the painful truth that while her step-mother had not killed Emma, she had stolen a lifetime of precious moments that could never be returned.

"Mary Margaret?"

Not mom, or mommy, or mother, titles that should have been hers, titles she'd dreamed of having since her own mother's passing.

"Snow?" James tried again and this time she turned, burying her face into her husband's neck, unable to hold back the sound of her despair. For everything she'd lost because of one cruel woman's vengeance, Snow White princess of a forgotten world, cried.

Carefully, he took the phone from her hand and raised to his ear. "We'll call you back, Sweetheart, you're mom's just had a bad dream."

And for every memory she'd never have, for all the harsh, horrible moments she knew her daughter had lived through, for every simple word her husband had just spoken that stabbed at her heart, Snow White cried, and cried, until the sun broke the sky, and then she cried some more.

* * *

><p>Jiminy Cricket awoke to find his hand outstretched before him in the darkness of his room. He sat up, realizing he was drenched in sweat and left the safety of his bed for the warm lights of his adjoining bathroom.<p>

Cool water eased the sting behind his eyes as he splashed his face.

He'd been watching Gepetto as a boy, seeing him laughing in a field full of fireflies. Those had been some of his greatest memories, watching the young boy who's family he'd unwittingly stolen, allowed to be a child again in those fleeting moments. The boy had never complained, he worked hard, harder every day that he grew into a man, and Jiminy had been so happy for him when he'd found his beautiful bride.

But fate as been still cruel, and though they had tried for many years, a child was never conceived. At the time, as he listed to Gepetto comfort his crying wife, Jiminy had felt responsible, as if in his act to get away from his trickster family, he had cursed Gepetto yet again. And then when the dark eyed beauty had succumbed to the illness that plagued the village and Gepetto had buried her under the great oak tree, Jiminy had been right there beside him, crying with his unknowing friend.

But that had been so long ago, the pain should have subsided, but instead it intensified when he saw his old friend. The man was happy, as happy as he could be, but the longing was always there, the desire for a son, a hidden pain behind his eyes. It had that afternoon stopped Jiminy cold in the middle of the street, thinking that thought. How often had he begged the Blue Fairy to help his friend, and when finally the means for a son, even if only wooden, had been procured, the Curse had yet again stolen Gepetto's happiness.

Was it Jiminy, was he the living embodiment of some private curse forever damning Gepetto's happiness?

He'd gone to sleep that night with tears in his eyes, and awoken to a nightmare of an entirely different pain.

Isabelle and Ruby had been standing on the cliffs. He remembered that day so vividly. The wind had blown their hair around them as if trying to transform into wings. Ruby had Isabelle's hand in her own, so tightly, tethering the two of them together to forever be one being, one mind in the decision that was about to be made.

He'd cried out to them, calling Ruby back, crying out for Isabelle to come away from the edge, that they would all talk, that nothing could ever be this bad.

But in his mind, he hadn't been so sure. Isabelle was so badly broken, held together only by her self-created tether to Mr. Gold. And Ruby, beautiful, forever lost Ruby, with armor crafted by her growing sexuality. Both so different, and yet the same. The pain within themselves so great, too great to bear by one, so shared by both. Ruby, more than Isabelle depended on her friend, though he knew Isabelle didn't realize it. Now, with his memories restored, knowing what he did about Ruby about the horrors that plagued the young woman, he realized that her unhappy ending had begun long before they came to this place.

He watched as they talked, the wind stealing their words and forever burying them in the ether. Then he watched as Isabelle turned. She was looking for Mr. Gold, and as Jiminy had turned, he'd seen with dawning horror that this time, Mr. Gold had not been there.

The wind had brought him Isabelle's voice, "He's not there."

Beside her, Ruby nodded slowly, accepting her fate. "I can't do this without you, and you can't do this without him."

Isabelle turned to look at her friend and their eyes met. "I'm sorry, Ruby."

The other girl with her dark red lips, smiled softly, "It's ok. I'm tired too, Izzy."

He heard his voice shout out to them, desperate to reach them as he saw them step over the edge together. His hand before him, reaching, forever reaching, trying to save them, desperate to save someone.

* * *

><p>Five am was a bitterly cold time in Storybrooke, but despite that, the lights were on in nearly every dwelling, attesting to the magic still floating in the air.<p>

He was across the street, dressed in his usual attire, his long wool coat buttoned, his scarf hanging around his neck. Against the early morning hours he was a shadow of the building across from the diner, his eyes fixed on the light coming from her window.

Had his magic touched her too?

He cursed, anger filling him. Was he forever doomed to hurting her?

And then, as if summoned by his thoughts, he saw her go to the window. Stepping back into the retreating darkness, his eyes watched her, hungry and desperate at the same time.

He saw her turn her head away from the window, then a nod before the light extinguished behind her. She moved forward then, approaching the window before lifting the glass. The blue lace curtains billowed around her as she stepped forward, leaning out the window and looking down the street.

His breath caught in his chest to see her like this, so beautiful and alive, truly alive in the morning air. He watched her hair float around her in the current, saw her close her beautiful blue eyes as she drew in the morning's coolness. One delicate hand lifted and brushed back her auburn locks, frayed and disorganized from her slumber and the wind.

She was as he remembered her, and yet not.

She was too thin, with dark smudges under her eyes that told him of sleepless nights and long hours toiling. Her lips were chapped now, and he watched her chew on her bottom lip as she continued to stare down the street. Her hair was longer now, but limp, not full bodied and curly as he remembered it.

But perhaps the biggest change was not in her physical appearance. He saw her sigh, brushing her hair back yet again in a futile effort to tame it. She was harder now, he'd heard the edge in her voice when she'd spoken to the dwarf, and though she was still kind, her kindness was not so obviously given. But with him, where once she had been outspoken, challenging, and at times teasing and brave, she was now soft, delicate, and hesitant. Gone was his brazen beauty, who sought to tame the evil within the beast, she had been beaten and broken, lost to antiquity and reborn into an etherial creature delicate like the rose he had given her so long ago. As she was, this beautiful contradiction, she could not have stood up to him as she had so long ago, magic and power damned for the demands her heart forced upon her. Had he taken this girl, she would have withered under his gaze, broken into a weeping mess so early in her stay he would have locked her away in the dungeon and forgotten her.

Despite that though, she was his Belle. He saw her in the little things she did. The sigh she gave, the tick of her shoulder, the soft smile she leveled at him, and way she molded so perfectly against him when he'd held her. He was not disappointed at the loss of who she had been, this Belle was still his in every way, though different, the same. She was the girl he had first seen behind the rosebushes on her father's estate, the girl who had wanted to make a deal because he'd be in 'her spot'. He had see this vulnerability when the death tole had rung out across her little kingdom, when the little princess who had been leaning against his chest, listening to him read to her of a make believe world, had risen, tripping over her skirts, tears coming instantly to her eyes as she'd raced away from him, crying out for her mother who would never again read to her in 'her spot'.

This was the Belle who had been lost to her mother's untimely death, the delicate princess she might otherwise have become had fate not been so unbelievably cruel to her. She had stayed in his mind for years, her presence annoying him, but always there, until the opportunity had presented itself for him to save her village, and banish her from his mind. But fate had had other plans.

Now what had once been lost to him was again found. Fate had bound them so incredibly tight, and who was he, Rumplestiltskin, to dare deny fate.

But she deserved better.

He watched her turn, her eyes going towards the horizon of the slowly rising sun, the pink a rosy hew on her skin that was no longer there naturally.

She deserved a handsome prince on a white horse, with honor and dignity, not a cowardly old fool, who'd sold his soul and lost everything for a power that had not been worth what it had cost. She needed someone who could love her unconditionally, someone who knew her, knew she enjoyed strong female heroines in her books, liked five minute eggs, and loved the color yellow because it reminded her of her mother's hair. She deserved someone who would hold her close, wouldn't make her bake bread because she hated the feel of uncooked dough, who would know to carry the second bucket from the well because her left wrist was a touch weaker than her right due to a childhood riding accident.

She deserved better than Rumplestiltskin.

A smile, full and bright, broke across her face as she looked at the rising sun. With her eyes closes, the brilliance lit up each individual lash as it brushed her cheek. Her wild hair shone with forgotten luster, and brushed her face lovingly as it floated around her.

He would not lose her.

If he was not the man that deserved her, then he would become that man. Emptiness had carved into him from a lifetime of loss, and only she had filled him. True love's kiss could not be denied, nor ignored. A thousand suitors could call on her, some might even bring her joy, but true love was something none of them could give her. Could she have been happy without him, truly happy, he would have let her go, but a kiss that could give him back his soul was one that reminded him that he could not exist fully without her, nor she without him.

Fate had given him a second chance to protect her, to love her as she should have been loved by him in the beginning. He'd wasted away, mad from her loss, and she too, had dwindled until all that remained was the shell of the girl and the dim spark of her soul. Now he could see her, know her, love her, and he would.

But he had to be careful, he had to approach her slowly. He was not a man used to acts of heroic bravery, and even he knew he could not expect fate to help him recall the bravery of his youth. She would take time, time he had, time he would devote to her. He would not be the man he had become.

He would become the man she needed him to be.

Long after she closed the window and made her way downstairs to begin her day, he stood in the shadowed street and watched her. He had defied fate once, and it had cost her more than he could ever give her back. This time, he would follow fate, and claim the other half of his soul, the spark within her, and he would join it with his, until she glowed as she had that night by the spinning wheel, with a love in her eyes that could not be denied forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Isabelle tried later that day to take a nap, but it was impossible. Dark figures stalked behind her slumbering eyes and forced her away with a rush of breath. She gave up around 4pm, hours before her shift at The Cove began, and instead dressed for the slightly cooler day and went for a walk.

Her feet knew where to take her, and she ended up seated on a bench outside the the little corner store on 4th and Main Street. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her check book and examined the total. Nearly $12,000 now. She snapped it shut and shoved it back into her purse smiling to herself.

She'd been saving for nearly three years now. It had been harder when she'd been working just at Granny's, but since taking the job at The Cove earlier this year, she'd already saved $6000 on tips alone. $8000 more to go, maybe another year, and she'd have enough.

In her mind, Izzy had already figured out her sales pitch, how important the store would be to the community, how much everyone would love it, and if she had to, she'd remind him it would primaraly be for children.

He was such a sucker for children.

Izzy smiled, leaning back and closing her eyes in the late afternoon sun. Mr. Gold of course owned the shop, he owned just about every building in Storybrooke truth be told. But she thought she could convince him of the worth of her idea, and for this, for this one thing, she was prepared to stretch the boundaries of their relationship and beg if she needed too. It combined all her favorite memories, of his love of children, of her joy in the quiet solitude of his shop, of the fun and fanciful nature of the sound of his voice as he'd teased her that sunny, lazy afternoon so long ago, and of course, her love of books.

She'd held this secret from everyone, thrilling at it, excited to unveil it when it was ready, when she had the money, and could present it. She wouldn't ask him for anything more than the lease, and of course she was prepared to pay full market value. He wanted fifteen hundred dollars a month, which made sense since the shop had a quaint little apartment above it. Fifteen hundred dollars, times three for first and lasts plus deposit, and then the rest she would take to the bank and beg for a small loan. She was sure the bank would lend to her, especially if she gave them the rest as colatoral...and she was pretty sure, if she gave him ice cream with his pie, Mr. Gold would go with her to the bank to make sure she didn't screw up the small loan application.

In her mind it was perfect, and she held that image close to her heart during the long hard hours she worked at The Cove waiting on drunk idiots. It went against her better judgement, but the fact of the matter was, sex sold, and it was good for tips. So she dressed in some of Ruby's clothes, nothing that ever showed her torso, but short skirts that showed of her short but thin legs, knee high boots that gave her some much needed height; her tops were always more conservative, but since she only had one scar on her left arm, she usually pretended it wasn't there and wore tank tops. Her chest was relatively unscathed, but as she wasn't very well endowed, Ruby had helped her find tops that while not showing much, enhanced what she had. She wasn't as impressive as Ruby, but it would do. She almost always wore her hair up when she worked, not wanting it to get into everything, and Ruby usually insisted on doing her makeup before she went out, using dark kohl liner and and a few other tricks that made her feel sexy.

Eric, the owner, was kind to her, didn't take any crap from drunk customers, and treated his staff like family. She enjoyed working for him, and he seemed to like working with her too. He flirted with everyone, but she didn't take it to heart, knowing that he had his eye on the redheaded beauty who sang sultry numbers on Friday nights.

No, Izzy wasn't interested in the leers, the suggestions, the phone numbers left next to generous tips. There was only one man who received her undivided attention during the evening, and she smiled at the memory.

Mr. Gold had learned of her job at The Cove from an unlikely source, the Mayor, who had never seemed to take much of an interest in Izzy until that day. She herself hadn't told him because she didn't want to worry him. Granny had reacted badly to the news, and Izzy was fairly certain he wouldn't like it any better.

But on her first Friday shift, at exactly 9:30pm, he'd very uncomfortably walked into the riotous bar, spoken with Eric and been escorted to a table they usually reserved for storing all manner of extra things that showed up during an evening. She'd seen him of course, and he'd caught her eye and nodded to her as he'd come in. So at her 9:45pm break, she'd walked over to the table and sat across from him. And for fifteen minutes, she'd had his undivided attention.

He never commented on her clothing, or her make up, or the bar patrons who would occasional think it was ok to touch her if they left her larger tips. He didn't talk about her job much at all. Just smiled softly at her, and over the loud laughter, and sometimes music, he would ask her how she was that day. And it was just like any other day between them, only over libations instead of pie. Though it was too loud, and hard to hear, she treasured her Cove nights because for her full fifteen minute break; she didn't have to share him with anyone, didn't have to excuse herself to fill a coffee cup, or ring out a customer, she just got to stare at him, and know that he was ok.

"Hi, Izzy, whatcha doing?" Started, Isabelle opened her eyes and came nearly face to face with Henry, who was standing next to her, looking at her curiously.

He was so cute. "Hi, Henry. I was just sitting here enjoying this beautiful day. What are you up too?" She scooted over on the bench and patted the seat, beside her.

Henry bounced over, sitting with his backpack still on and leaned against it. He took a deep breath and then squinted up at her. "I was going to get an ice cream and saw you sitting here. What were you thinking about?"

Smiling, Izzy leaned towards him conspiratorially, "Can you keep a secret?"

Henry's eyes went wide, and that childlike wonder spread across his face as he nodded emphatically, "Yeah! I've been keeping Operation Cobra secret for months, so I can definitely keep your secret!"

She had no idea what Operation Cobra was, but whatever it was, it was obviously a well kept secret, so he was trustworthy. Leaning closer to him, she carefully pointed at the building in front of her. "See that building?" He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, "Well, I was thinking that in another year, I might put a store in there." Henry's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened to comment, but she quickly, and playfully covered his mouth with one hand and brought her other up to her face, her index finger over her lips. "Shhhh, we have to keep it quiet, no one can know or they might try to take it from me before then. OK?"

The building being leased out from under her was highly doubtful, in all the years she'd lived in Storybrooke, she'd never seen anyone even look twice at it. It was just another vacant storefront, something so ordinary it was overlooked by everyone, well everyone but Isabelle, but that was because she had a vision of what it could become.

"What kind of store?" Henry had worked his way from around her hand, but his voice was very low as he tried to keep his promise.

She winked at him, and then whispered in his ear, "You'll have to wait and see." Then she clapped her hands and stood. "Well enough of that, weren't you saying something about ice cream?"

"Yeah, I was gonna get some for me and Emma." Henry stood as well, adjusting his backpack. "She gave me five dollars so I could get one after school today."

That was strange, Izzy looked up at the now working clocktower, and saw that it read 4:35pm. School had let out ages ago, and she said as much to the boy.

Henry just shrugged, "Mary Margaret wanted to talk to me after school today, and then I had to, well, talk to someone really important about Operation Cobra, but now I'm done so I wanted to get a chocolate dipped cone for me and a vanilla cone with no chocolate for Emma. She usually takes chocolate too, but she said she just wanted a plain one when she dropped me off at school this morning.

Izzy turned towards the Candy House, a candy store that often served the children ice cream after school. The woman that ran it was blind, but seemed to know each child that entered the store by smell alone. She'd always found the woman creepy, but it was the best place to get ice cream in town. "Do you mind if I join you? Ice cream sounds wonderful."

The boy's face lit up in happiness, "Really? Yeah, come on, we can even sit at one of the tables next to the flying pig." Izzy laughed, as Henry took her hand, and propelled her down the sidewalk.

When they arrived, she told him to go sit at the table next to the animetronic pig with the bright white wings, and went to get their order. The woman behind the counter smiled at her, "Fine afternoon, Isabelle. Are you and Henry enjoying the sunshine?"

Izzy smiled and answered in the affirmative, before gathering their snacks and taking it to the table. She was a little startled to see Henry with a giant book in front of him, staring at what appeared to be blank pages. Handing him the ice cream cone and receiving a very polite "thank you", she decided to ask after the book.

He looked at her a moment, really looked at her, and Izzy felt for a moment he was searching for something on her face. When he didn't find it, he looked down at the pages again and bit into the chocolate candy shell. "It's a book Mary Margaret gave me. It's filled with stories about other people."

She tipped her head to get a better look, "It looks like an empty book to me. Is it a journal, are you supposed to write in it?"

Before her, Henry stopped completely dead, as if every muscle in his body was immobilized, and then like a spring, his head came flying up, his eyes wide as he looked at her, stunned.

"Henry, are you alright?" She reached out a hand and touched his arm, concerned.

"Belle you're brilliant! That's it! That's what he meant! How come I didn't figure it out sooner?!" With one hand, he slammed the book shut, and with the other, he thrust the slightly muched ice cream into her hand.

"Henry!"

"I gotta go, Izzy, I have to go find some ink, no! Maybe water, yeah, that's it, wishing water! I gotta go! Bye!" And just like that, Henry grabbed up his book shimmied into his backpack and took off, backpack bouncing as he ran out of the store.

She stared after him for a moment and then shook her head absently. Smiling, she picked up her dish of ice cream and licked at Henry's cone before leaving the brightly colored store.

The boy was cute, but maybe a touch odd. Still, he was adorable, and she couldn't help but smile at the game he was likely playing, maybe with a friend.

Wishing water, really.

With a laugh to herself, Izzy walked down the sidewalk towards home.


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, well, if it isn't the Little Prince himself. I'm surprised to see you, I thought for sure your mother would be keeping you under lock and key."

The boy nodded before changing his mind and shaking his head. He advanced without fear into the darkness of his domain, it was a testament to the boy's courage.

"She tried. Emma told me to stay away from you cause you're dangerous, but that's just because she doesn't understand." He approached the counter, set his backpack on the floor, and took up a chair, dragging it over before sitting on it as Mr. Gold leaned forward across the expanse of glass, his eyes no longer human as he smiled at the boy.

"Maybe she understands all too well. You should mind the stories in that book of yours, you'd be surprised how many tell tales as true as any written." Before him Henry just nodded, before leaning down and pulling out his giant book. Without preamble, he flipped to the blank pages and turned the book so it was facing Gold.

The Dark One smiled as he looked down at the pages before looking back up, slightly proud of the boy who stared back at him perturbed. "I haven't told Emma yet because it's broken, but once I figure out how to fix it-"

His smile morphed into a look as black as midnight and he leaned even closer to the boy, so that his breath ruffled the downy soft hair, "Mind what you say, Little Prince, my patience for children goes only so far."

Henry shook his head, but did not pull back, "I'm not going to use it," and the way he said it, as if the thought had never even occurred to him, caused Gold to pull back, the darkness leaving his face. Henry looked up at him and turned the book around. "I mean, I can't right? Belle is still sick, and until she's better going back to the Enchanted Forrest will only hurt her. So we can't do that. But I still don't like that the pages don't work anymore." He pointed at a blank space in the middle of the page, "Forever...forever...for-ev-er!" The boy grunted and threw himself back into the chair. "See! Broken! Why doesn't it work anymore?"

Rumplestiltskin turned the book around to face him, the pages with their clearly written words, words in his own hand, looked back at him, silently waiting to be spoken. He looked over at the boy and smiled, "If I told you that, you might try to fix it," and his smile was self serving as Henry huffed at him.

"Of course I have to fix it. I mean, you are going to help Belle, and make her fall in love with you again, and then you'll kiss her, and she'll break The Curse. Once that happens, if I don't fix the book, I won't be able to use it to send us home."

Too clever by half. The boy had read more of the words than he'd thought. Rumplestiltskin tipped his head to the side before swinging the book back around towards Henry, "And what makes you think I'd help you? Are you not the enemy, the mighty prince with his great sword, the hero to my villain?" He sing songed with an eerie, knowing smile.

Henry looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You're not the villain?"

Startled out of his fun, he pulled his brows together, this child was at once a mystery, and all together something else, no wonder he was the Touched, even if his child like mind had yet to deduce it. "Why do you say that, Little Prince? Am I not frightening enough for you? Do you not fear me as your mothers do?"

For a moment, he saw the flicker of hurt pass through Henry's eyes. Many would later tell the tales of the boy who survived the rearing of the Wicked Queen, and even Henry himself would one day speak of it, but no matter how wicked she was, she would always be his mother; at least a small part of the place that title would occupy in his mind. He would always remember her, always fear her, hate her, and above all, love her. Such was the fate of the tragic hero.

Henry looked down at the book, pulling it closer to him. "You're not the villain." He shrugged his shoulders, "I mean, you can't be. Belle is in love with you, and she can't be in love with the villain. So you can't be the villain," he paused, thinking on his words for a moment, "Well, ok, maybe you're the villain to Cinderella, but definitely not to Belle." This seemed to confuse him, and he pulled back, his face scrunched up as he tried to reason it all out. "I mean, you're the hero, so you can't be the villain."

"Why not?" And the way he said it, so simply, so matter of factly, had Henry's eyes locking with his and silence filling his cluttered shop. For a long, long time, Henry just stared at him, searching for something that he couldn't see.

It was always like this for the hero, so black and white, with no grays to ease the telling of the tale. But life was gray, with a mixture of light and darkness that forever painted the landscape. Henry as the hero could never-

"I guess you're both." The boy before him finally answered. "You're Belle's hero and her villain. You allowed Cinderella to meet her prince, but tried to take her baby away. You gave the Evil Queen The Curse, but you also helped us try to destroy it." Henry looked up at him, his eyes aglow with adult realizations, "You're both, the hero and the villain. You're good and your bad.

"So I guess," he paused, "I guess you get to decide what you want to be now. You love Belle, so I think you'll want to be the hero, but maybe being the hero to Belle means being the villain to someone else. But that means," Henry struggled with the logic, though Rumplestiltskin admitted he felt a great deal of pride in the boy just now, "well, you can't be the good guy or the bad guy, you're just...a guy, like me. We're the same."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Shall we take your own situation then?" He regarded the boy, choosing his words carefully. "Are you not Emma's son and Snow White's grandson?" Henry nodded. "They, you would do anything for, because you love them both?" He nodded emphatically in the way of children answering an obvious question. "Well then, despite all of that, are you not also Regina's son?"

Henry paused, then very slowly, he nodded his head. Mr. Gold continued, "Do you believe Regina cares for you, Henry? Do you believe that in her own way, she loves you as Emma or Snow White do, perhaps more even? For consider, being a mother was never easy for her, it never came naturally, and despite that, she tried always to make you happy, even when she couldn't."

The boy did not move, just listened to the teacher.

"If she then loves you, and you choose another, are you not her villain? Did you not break her heart to fill another?"

Henry drew his brows together, desperate to find fault in the logic. "But she didn't love me!" He proclaimed. "She only wanted to...to..."

Mr. Gold shook his head sadly, and within his heart, despite his hatred for the Queen, he felt pity for her. "No, Henry, learn this lesson now, and learn it well. The Queen loved you, loves you still. Her fault lies in the fact that she could not love you in a way most would recognize as love, but that does not mean it was not true. Your betrayal cut deeper than any other, and believe me, I know how deep betrayal has affected her. You chose Emma, and few if any would blame you, but you cannot ignore the damage that decision has brought and will continue to bring."

He walked around the counter, his cane clicking on the hardwood floor. "If your actions were a story, the son who betrayed his mother, would you not be the villain?"

Slowly, Henry nodded, "But I don't want to be the villain?"

Long, sure fingers reached out to lay against the boy's brown hair. "Few of us do, Little Prince, but Fate forces us to be who we become, do the things we do, and we must accept those consequences."

He leaned down to be eye level with the boy, "A long time ago, I betrayed Belle. I made choices that I would not make again, and because of that, she suffered, unimaginably. But read the story from my perspective, and one can easily see why I made the choices I did, and if not for those choices others would have suffered. Despite what you may think, I am not the villain in every story. Good things came of my actions, as did bad.

"No one is ever truly good or evil, no one is always the hero or the villain, and the choices we make do not stop in the moment, but ripple into the lives of those around that choice. I am both the hero and the villain," he stood, walking back around the display to once again lean atop the glass, "and so are you."

Henry watched him carefully, and he thought he could see the connections being made, the realizations dawning on a mind so young and impressionable. Perhaps he could educate this one child, share the knowledge gained after such a long, long life.

After a time, Henry dropped his eyes, and leaned forward, collecting the book and putting it back into his backpack. As he did, he spoke dejectedly, "If everyone is a good guy, and everyone is a bad guy, how do you know who you're supposed to help?"

He smiled a toothy grin, "You don't. Sometimes, you just have to pick the one that seems better, the one with the better terms, the one who makes you a better deal." He drew the last word out, watching as Henry's eyes grew wide.

"That's why you make deals? Because you can't figure out who you should help, so you help the one that gives you better stuff?"

He laughed, a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest. The incredulous sound in Henry's voice was so innocently young. But his reasons were his own, no need to tell the boy Fate spoke to him and the future was not so opaque as most believed.

Setting his cane on its hanger behind the display, he regarded the boy. "Let's see then, shall we? Make me an offer Henry, an offer that rivals the one made by the Queen. Convince me I should help you fix the words in your book. Make me a deal, Little Prince." His voice was not that of Mr. Gold, though his features stayed the same, and Henry seemed perplexed, but then looked down at his hands to think.

Finally, he looked up and shook his head. "No. I mean, I can't. You love Belle, so you wouldn't do anything to hurt her. The book would send us all back to the Enchanted Forrest, and then Belle would be hurt. So there isn't anything I could offer you that would be better than the Queen."

He nodded proud once again of the little boy prince. "True, but in truth, was I swayed by the Queen's deal, or by my own convictions? Is there anything in all the world that would make me change my mind?" Henry shook his head, "Correct, then it is not just the deal, Little Prince, it is something more than just the perfect deal."

"Love?" Henry tried.

Gold shook his head, "Love is indeed powerful, but many things can undercut it."

"Power?" The boy tried again.

"If that were so, why would I now be trying to protect Belle?"

Pausing, Henry thought, and then finally, cocked his head to the side and said, "I don't know. Something more powerful than love and power, it's something you'd really have to," he paused then looked up, "it's something you'd need. Something you'd have to do because you couldn't do anything else. Like destiny or something."

Startled, Rumplestiltskin looked down at the boy. Then a slow, lazy smile curled his features and he reached his hand out over the counter. "A very wise deduction, Little Prince. Now, hand me your book."

Henry didn't hesitate, just tore into his backpack and extracted the book, passing it to the older man. Gold thumbed through it, recognizing his words on every page, before coming to the blank pages. He turned the book back to Henry, setting it upright on the countertop.

"What do, you, need, Henry? What is your, destiny?"

The boy sighed, "I wish I knew."

Gold snapped the book closed and handed it to him, proclaiming loudly, "Exactly!"

Confused, Henry opened his mouth but Gold just made a shooing motion with his hand. "The rest you'll have to figure out on your own, Little Prince, for my needs do not coincide with yours. But you should know this, it is difficult to surprise me, and you have done that this day." He smiled, the warmth going into his eyes, "I have no doubt you'll figure it out, Henry, Fate has chosen well with you."

Henry put the book back into his bookbag and slid it onto his shoulders. "You realize I have no idea what you're talking about, right? I'm only ten."

That lazy smile returned to otherwise stoic features. "Oh you'll figure it out, that part has already been written. The question is, what will you write?"

"You're not making any sense." Henry huffed, nearly stamping his foot in frustration.

Rumplestiltskin smirked, "I get that a lot."

Without another word, Mr. Gold stood, picked up his cane and entered the back room of his shop.


	9. Chapter 9

Isabelle licked at Henry's discarded ice cream cone, having already worked the chocolate coating off in little bite sized chunks. The sun was bright but sinking overhead, and she figured it was close to five.

She passed the florists shop but didn't look inside. It had once belonged to her father, before he'd had to sell it to pay his legal expenses. Now Mauriece owned it, a pleasant man who had once been her father's friend. Maurice would sometimes pass the diner, and while he would always look in, he never approached Isabelle, despite the fact that at one time, she'd called him Uncle. Now they were strangers, one more thing broken by her father.

"Did you hear about what happened at the diner yesterday?" Rounding the corner in front of Isabelle, two older women, obviously half deaf spoke too loudly to each other.

Isabelle recognized them from the bible study classes her father used to hold at their flat, but she couldn't remember their names.

The other woman turned to her companion, "About Mr. Gold and Isabelle?" The first woman nodded. "I heard they caused quite a scene. Something about how he wrapped her into his arms and whispered to her after that drunkard called them on their affair."

Izzy's heart stopped dead and cold in her chest. Panic welled under the surface of her thoughts, but despite that, she couldn't help but listen.

The first woman nodded. "Disgusting. I heard from Jean that that he was all over her; had his hand up her shirt even!"

"No!" Said the other woman, shocked.

The word was echoed in Izzy's mind. This couldn't be happening! She'd been so careful!

"It's true! I heard it straight from Jean who was sitting in the diner herself. Said the girl fairly swooned into him. How inappropriate! Mr. Gold should be ashamed of himself, going after a girl half his age!"

Her companion leaned in closer but the volume of her voice was still clearly audible to all. "You didn't hear this from me, mind you, but I heard that since she started working at The Cove, he's been waiting for her after we're all asleep. The Lord only knows what they get up to!"

The first woman's voice turned cold, "God bless Granny for taking that girl in. Her father knew right it seems. Perhaps if the Sheriff hadn't gotten involved he could have beaten the sinfulness out of her all those years ago. Imagine, whoring herself around, and the whole town already knows Gold's bought and paid for her already."

"Disgusting!"

She was losing the ability to think clearly now. Her vision tunneled, her mind replaying images long buried in the depths of her mind. The other woman said something, but Izzy couldn't hear it over the roaring of the blood in her ears. Her heart beat so rapidly, her breaths began to come in short bursts, and all she could do was turn her head, locate the first door on her right, and throw it open, ducking inside and slamming it behind her.

Her back leaned against the cool glass of the door, but like this she could feel every raised scar, every mark of shame.

'Perhaps if the Sheriff hadn't gotten involved he could have beaten the sinfulness out of her all those years ago.'

NO! She couldn't think about it, she wouldn't! But she was exhausted from two days of nightmares, of reliving her memories when they should have been silent. The pills she took every day tried to calm her racing heart, but it wouldn't work, it was all too much.

A pitiful sound escaped her throat, and she tipped her head backwards, trying not to faint. All her plans, all her hard work to stay way from him, to remain aloof, to be polite but not kind. All the times she'd sacrificed herself trying to stay away from him, and in the end it had all been undone by a stupid dwarf!

"Belle?"

She'd gone mad, as his gentle Scottish accent drifted past the constant sound of her heart drumming. She wanted him there so badly that now her mind was conjuring him up.

She really was going insane.

"Belle, dearie, are you alright?"

Warm hands, even in his anger, his hands had still be warm against her wrist.

"Belle, what's wrong?"

His cane hit the hardwood floor of the shop and Isabelle's eyes flew open in shock. She didn't have to search for his eyes, they were there, locked on her own, even as he rounded the counter and made his way towards her by the door.

The glass door, that anyone could see through.

"Don't!" She nearly shouted, her hands out in front of her, and he did, stopped right where he stood, with concern clearly upon his features.

She couldn't use the word 'handsome' when describing him, it was something much more than that. In the dim light of the dark shop he looked distinguished and regal, a gentleman thrown back from a bygone age. From the cane to his tailored suit, to his hair that was just a touch too long, and for some reason just not right, he was foreign here, and yet in her mind, he fit perfectly.

"Belle?" His tone was imploring, beseeching, and it took her a moment to realize he was honoring her request to remain where he was, despite his desire to go to her.

I want him to hold me.

No one could see her in here. She hadn't been in his shop in 10 years. She avoided it, avoided him except in the diner. She pretended he was any other customer, just a lonely man in need of a slice of pie and a few minutes of company. But in reality, he was her world, and staying away from him cost her so much that she broke a little more every day for lack of him.

Please, hold me.

Isabelle broke eye contact with him, she had to, she had to think of something, a way out. Maybe no one had seen her come inside? Maybe she could slink back out and no one would notice. Maybe-

His cane hit the floor, he was coming to her despite her command.

She wouldn't let him sacrifice himself for her.

Her eyes fell upon the things in her hands, and she realized that she was still holding a half eaten ice cream cone in one hand, and a cup of vanilla with rainbow sprinkles in the other. Inspiration struck her and she lunged away from the door, startling him mid-step.

"H-Here! I, um, I brought you an ice cream." She held the two confections before her like a shield as she took one step then another.

Confusion fell across his features, and Isabelle pressed her advantage. "I stopped to get some from the Candy House with Henry, and, um, well you won't be having pie today, so I thought you might like one...since...I was stopping anyway." She finished lamely and quietly, having walked as close as she dared to him, now deep in his shop.

She glanced away from his searching eyes and noticed she was holding both items out, and quickly withdrew the half eaten cone, laughing with self depreciation. "Oops, not that one. Here," and she thrust the cup into his hand before stepping away, glancing back at the door afraid someone would see her, "it's, um, vanilla, nothing fancy."

His expression remained, it was obvious he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her, and Isabelle felt trapped by that gaze. She glanced around the shop and gave a chuckle, "Not that you normally go for fancy things or anything." Her hand shot out, clumsy from nerves, to touch one of the finer objects on a nearby shelf, but she missed, dragging her finger across the dusty shelf. She drew her hand back, surprised by the noticeable layer of dust. "Well this is a surprise." She held her hand out for his inspection and smiled, her heart rate dropping as she chided him, the action feeling familiar. "With all this dust about, how do you expect anyone to see the beauty of your wares and buy anything?" She turned, and took another swipe at the shelf, her fingers coming back the same way. "Mr. Gold, this is just...well this is just awful. It's a wonder your customers don't need masks to come in here."

Then she turned, the full weight of her teasing smile on her face, and she watched him see it there, and respond in kind. His shoulders relaxed, and his mouth broke into a toothy grin, so rare she'd never seen it other than when it was bestowed upon her.

Taking a step forward, he set the ice cream cup on the shelf and then ran his fingers over the path her's had noticeably created in the dust. "It does appear as if I've neglected a chore or two."

She laughed, and didn't notice now that they were cocooned in the dim warmth of his shop that her heart had stopped it's crazy rhythm. "Or two?" She turned around to spy another shelf in equal form, "I'd say it's more than a few."

His smile turned lazy and easy, like a million others shared between them over the years, "Now, now, Belle, it isn't that bad."

Taking a step back she turned in the shop, looking around her for the first time in a decade. It all looked...exactly the same. She stopped and turned to look at him, then smiled conspiratorially. "Let's see, shall we?" And with that she turned and took a cluttered path, barely recognizable, towards the window box and the chair that used to be right-

"I-It's still there?!" She cried, her hand going to her mouth in surprise. Long ago, he'd found her sitting on the edge of the window box, reading a first edition book from his collection. Her family was poor and couldn't possibly afford something so old, but she enjoyed the feel of the weathered paper between her fingers, and he had told her she could come in anytime she'd wanted. Back then, he'd noisily dragged a chair to her side and she'd jumped in it the moment she'd had his permission to do so. The chair had been of some rich wood painted gold, the upholstery red velvet, now threadbare from the years. It had been an antique, and when she'd dared to look at the price tag it had been beyond her wildest dreams to acquire it.

Now, as his cane tapped comfortingly along the path, she could see the chair, still, only now it bore a tag which read, "Not For Sale".

"It didn't seem right to sell it." Was his simple explanation.

She turned to regard him, now standing close enough that she could feel his presence like electricity all along her skin. "But why?" She turned back to the chair, shaking her head as if in doing so the answer would appear to her.

But he didn't hesitate. "Because it's your chair, dearie; and when you're ready for it, it's yours."

"Mine?"

His voice conveyed his smile, "Of course, whom else would it belong too?"

She spun then, almost, almost angry at him. "Well whoever could pay for it, that's who! Mr. Gold, this chair is worth-"

"It's priceless, my dear, and priceless things cannot be sold, they must be gifted. And as I said, it is here when you have need of it."

"But-"

"Now, were did I put that treat you brought me? Oh yes, over here." He turned and walked back towards the center of the shop, and Izzy had no choice but to follow him.

Click, click, click, it was hard to believe that she could find that sound so reassuring. For him it probably felt so debilitating. She looked down, watched his bad leg, saw the hesitant jerk of his muscles as if they couldn't coordinate, firing different signals at different times. She'd never seen him popping any pills, or wincing for that matter. She wondered if it hurt.

"Hm? No, no, dearie, just aches a little on rainy days. The price of a botched act of heroism."

Oh god, had she asked him that out loud? Her eyes wide, she looked up into his gentle smile, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. What had she said exactly?

Desperate, she looked anywhere for a change of subject and snapped to the cup of melting ice cream in his hand. "It's, um, vanilla, I hope that's ok."

He nodded, his eyes finding hers for a moment, not uncomfortable, just comforting. "My favorite actually. All that other rubbish in the mix takes away from the simple flavor of the sweet cream."

Izzy blinked and then smiled, licking at the forgotten cone in her hand, it's flavor chocolate. "You make it sound as if you've tasted it without any flavors at all."

"Oh but I have," and his smile was so genuine, so thoughtful and secretive that she was desperate to know more.

"When?" She asked, her voice a gasp.

He shrugged his shoulder, but his eyes twinkled, "Many years ago, back where I'm originally from. We never used flavoring back then, iced cream was a delicacy afforded only to the rich."

Fascinated, Izzy leaned her shoulder against the bookshelf. "So your family was rich then?"

He scoffed and shook his head, "Hardly, but there are other ways of getting what you want besides with coin."

She grew secretive, "Did you steal it?" Her eyes alight in mischief.

He thought for a moment, "Maybe once or twice. The kitchen staff would keep it cooling in the river, so I'm sure I likely did in my youth."

Isabelle took an unconscious step forward, mesmerized by his voice and his tale. "But that's not the way you were remembering getting it. How else did you get iced cream?"

Setting his cane against the bookshelf, he lifted the spoon, covered in white confection with a rainbow of colored sprinkles on top and brought it to his lips. Izzy held her breath, she wanted him to like it, even as that seemed self serving and ridiculous, a grown man liking sprinkles on his ice cream. But for some reason, she wanted him too. He should like all things with sugar, brightly colored and exuberant.

He worked the candy around his tongue and then smiled at her. "Thank you, Belle. I wasn't expecting such a treat today."

She nodded and then smirked, "You're avoiding the question. You're just like, Ruby. Now tell me, how did you get it?"

He looked around his shop and shook his head, "Perhaps it's better you don't know."

"No! Oh please, you have to tell me now! Please!" She took another step towards him. "I won't tell anyone, I swear!" Then another step.

Then she realized her hand was on his arm, at his wrist, and his gaze was no longer jovial or mischievous, but intense and searching. Her fingers flexed at his wrist but she couldn't look away from his eyes, eyes that seemed to swirl in colors she'd never seen before.

Mesmerized, it took her a moment to acknowledge the hand on her hip, the gentle tug, and the way her body moved as if on its own towards him, filling in the empty space once between them.

She felt his hand circle to her back, resting against her spine, and though she knew he could feel her scars through her thin cotton shirt, she didn't pull away, caught in the moment of being so close to him.

He smelled of twilight and dust, of spring rain and hollowed earth. His gaze was intense upon hers but his mouth was set more into a line of dawning wonder than scrutiny. It was like he was seeing her for the first time, or maybe seeing her after a long, long time.

She missed him.

With a sigh, she gave in, allowed him to pull her against him, before leaning her head against the center of his chest and listening to the reassuring sound of his beating heart. Every breath she took drew him deeper into her lungs, filled her mind, body, and soul with his presence.

She'd missed him so much.

She dropped his wrist, bringing her hand up instead to lay against his chest. Her fingers flexed into his silk shirt, and his at her spine did the same, his thumb brushing back and forth in a wholly comforting gesture.

Please don't push me away.

"Never. Never again, Belle." His words made no sense to her silent plea so she paid them little mind. Her head swam with the rightness of where she was, of the feel of his arms wrapped around her, her check resting against his chest, and the tickling sensation of a half a day's stubble ruffling her hair as he nuzzled her temple. This was right, it had to be, there could be no other way.

"Oh my, am I interrupting?" Those cold words were ice water against Isabelle's senses, and with a squeal, she pulled away, rounding on the voice coming from behind her.

Mayor Mills, in a decadent suit of black on black with a bright red scarf tied around her throat, stood at the door, a knowing look upon her face that sent chills down Isabelle's spine. Her eyes were piercing as she came fully into the room, the shutting door sounding like an explosion to the serene world Isabelle had just been in.

The full weight of the compromising position she'd placed Mr. Gold in, hit her squarely in the chest. How could she have done that? He was a kind man, one who wouldn't have pushed her away as she crawled into him with all her pathetic neediness. She felt ashamed of herself, and terrified of what damage she'd created.

But she had to try, she had to. She lifted her eyes and shook her head at the Mayor, "N-no, we, we were just-" She was trembling, no one would believe her. What had she just done?

To her right, the air seemed to whoosh past, and time seemed to stall for just a moment. When her mind came back into focus, Mr. Gold was standing between herself and the Mayor, his eyes kind as he reached up his hands to her shoulders and gently turned her around towards the back of the store. "My apologizes, Belle. I failed to remember an appointment I had with the Mayor. We'll have to continue our discussion tonight." His hand slid down her back and he gave her a gentle shove towards the back room. "There's another exit through there, dearie." And then, almost as an after thought, and spoken with a hint of desperation, "Go straight home, Belle, don't dawdle."

Her feet couldn't move her fast enough to the small back room where a treasure trove of priceless items waited to be restored and displayed, for which Belle never even saw. She passed it all as she raced for the door and pushed the silver bar, releasing herself into the alleyway behind the shop. She never looked back, just did as she'd been told, walked straight home, a melting ice cream in one hand matching the falling tears of regret.

What had she done?


	10. Chapter 10

Terror lived and breathed in Isabelle's room, filling the darkness with evil and callous intent. As she sat up in bed, sweat soaked and gasping for breath, she looked down at her wrists in shock that they were not covered in heavy maniacal.

She heard the pounding footfalls down the hallway before her bedroom door exploded inward, light from the hallway filling the small space, inviting sanctuary into the darkness.

"Izzy! Are you ok? What's wrong?" Ruby cried, running into the room and immediately wrapping Izzy in her arms. "Izzy?"

"Oh Isabelle, are you alright?" Granny stood in the doorway, clutching the frame, her hair in rollers, her nightcap still in place upon her head, but slightly skewed. She took a step into the room, but stopped at the look on Isabelle's face.

"Izzy?" Ruby's warm hand came up and brushed at the tears on her cheeks, and then without hesitation pulled Isabelle against her chest and let her sob. "Shhh, Izzy, shhh, it's ok, you're safe. You're with me and your safe."

But she hadn't been. She'd been in horrible pain, pain that never got better that only intensified as her time in that dark place had moved forward. A wicked voice often floated through the darkness, whispering things that cut into her soul. She couldn't make out the words in her nightmare, but the voice was familiar, Regina Mills, it was the voice of the Mayor.

She remembered that she hadn't been able to move, but that every time she tried pain lanced through her, and her blood would flow, and always there was the constant ache, and the desperation to know why he hadn't come for her yet.

She'd dreamed that she was being tortured by the Mayor, and that Mr. Gold would not come to save her.

Isabelle cried out, her arms, circling around Ruby as she broke into wailing sobs that shook her entire body, and had Ruby calling out to her Granny for help. In her hysteria, Izzy begged for forgiveness, cried out for relief, and in the end, begged for him to save her or kill her.

She didn't know how long it lasted, but when Dr. Hopper entered her room with syringe in hand, rolled up her sleeve and gave her something that made the world pull away from her and left her floating, she figured it had to have been a very long time.

* * *

><p>"Tell me exactly what happened." Archie rubbed at the spot where a tiny drop of blood was forming on Isabelle's left arm, working the sedative, knowing from the way she flopped bonelessly into Ruby's arms that she was already exhausted.<p>

With clinical care, he lifted Izzy's nightshirt over her head, handing it to Granny as she scooped up a clean one from a drawer and handed it to him. Passing one corner to Ruby, they worked Isabelle's arms in before pulling it down. Standing, he moved away from the bed and stepped aside so Granny could help with Izzy's flannel shorts.

Ruby spoke up once they had Isabelle fully clothed. "She came home crying today from a walk. She hasn't been sleeping, nightmares the last few nights. Granny wouldn't let her work at The Cove tonight, so she went upstairs to take a nap, but she just can't seem to sleep!" Ruby delicately brushed back Isabelle's chestnut hair, "She keeps having nightmares, but this is the first time she's woken up screaming like that in forever. I couldn't calm her down, I tried everything!"

Archie placed a comforting hand on Ruby's shoulder, hearing the girl beginning to work herself up. "I'm sure you did everything you could, Ruby. What happened to her today? Do you know why she came home crying?"

Ruby shook her head. "I asked but she wouldn't tell me. Granny cooked her favorite dinner, but she wouldn't eat it, just went into the living room and stared out the window. She finally sent Izzy upstairs at 10 but I heard her rustling around when I went to bed at 11.

"She didn't say anything about her day?" Ruby shook her head, but Granny stepped forward then, concern written on her aged features.

"She didn't say it exactly, but when I went into the living room and told her to go to bed, she was whispering something, she was saying it so low and so fast, I didn't catch it at first, but she kept saying it over and over almost like she was in a trance." Worry had Granny's hands at her chest and throat as she looked down at the girl she thought of as another granddaughter.

Dr. Hopper nodded to her, "Do you have any idea what she was saying?"

Haunted eyes, made contact with his, and the doctor felt for the aged woman. "I think she was saying, 'Don't leave me.'"

Ruby jerked as if struck, her features morphing into fury as she tensed, her body going rigid. But with his hand on her shoulder still, he could feel the trembling.

"Ruby?"

She shook her head and stood up, making to stalk out of the room before Granny reacted and grabbed her arm. "If you know someth—"

"Oh I know something alright! I know what this is all about, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it happen!" With a jerk, she wrenched her arm out of Granny's grasp and stalked down the hallway before opening and then slamming a door.

Archie looked at the old woman, who looked sick with fear as she clutched at her dressing gown. Standing, he pulled Izzy's desk chair over to the bed and helped Granny sit. "I-I don't know what that girl is getting on about. What could she—"

The door at the end of the hallway slammed shut and those pounding footsteps came back until Ruby was standing in the doorway, now partially clothed and struggling into a jacket.

"Ruby! Where in the world are you—"

"Out." Was all she said, before coming fully into the room and leaning over Isabelle, kissing her sister on the forehead. "I made a promise, Izzy, and I'm going to keep it." Blood red fingernails reached out and brushed a stubborn curl from Izzy's face before Ruby stood up and turned.

Dr. Archie Hopper was directly in her path, his face set in stubbornness. "Whatever you're planning, Ruby, you need to think it all the way through."

"Oh I've thought it through, a hundred times in fact, every day, even! I'm done thinking, Doc, it's time to act!" She took a step forward, but retraced the step when the doctor didn't move from his place blocking the door.

"I know you care about Izzy, Ruby, no one would ever question that. But if you've really thought this through as well as you say you have, then you know it's the right thing to do, so share it with me. Explain what you're doing, where you're going."

Anger flashed I baby blue eyes, and Ruby advanced, gritting her teeth, "I didn't say it was the right thing to do, Doc, I just said I was doing it. Now get out of my way!" She side stepped him, using her shoulder to push him out of the way when he tried again to block her path.

"Ruby!" Granny cried, appalled by her granddaughter's actions. But she didn't stop, just bolted out the door and down the stairs. "Oh no," Granny whispered, and Archie shook his head in equal parts of sadness and defeat.

He approached the resting young woman, who even now did not sleep, but stared at the ceiling, lost and adrift. What had happened to Isabelle to spark this reaction, and what secret did Ruby know that might damn them all?

Sitting on the bed, he drew the covers up and over Izzy's chest, resting his hand once again on her shoulder. Thoughts screamed in his mind, scenarios played again and again, but always he drew back to the scene of Isabelle and Ruby, standing on the edge of the cliffs, their hands intertwined, and Izzy, with her eyes cast over her shoulder looking for the one person she couldn't live without.


	11. Chapter 11

Henry started awake, his eyes wide as he looked into Emma's. While his were sleepy, hers were filled with tears. "Come on, Kid, you gotta get up."

Confused, Henry looked over at the clock by the bedside table and saw, 9:30pm displayed on the clock. The Queen let him stay up until 10pm, but Emma wanted him in bed by 8pm. He knew she was new at being a mom, so he gave in without a struggle. He'd been a particularly good child too because his grandparents had been over with Grumpy when he'd been sent to bed, and while he'd wanted to whine about it, he'd gone without protest. The fact that he was now awake only a few hours later seemed really strange.

"But Emma, I just went to—"

"I don't have all night, Ms. Swan!"

Terror filled Henry's eyes for a moment as he locked onto Emma, realizing now why she was struggling not to cry. Her voice was horse from her struggle, "Come on, Henry." She put her hand behind his back, lifting him into a sitting position as she pulled the covers down to reveal his Transformers PJs.

He shook his head in denial, "No, no, Emma, please."

The tears fell then, like little diamonds from her eyes, one of them falling onto his hand. "I know, Henry, believe me I know, but you have to go."

No he didn't! This was his mom, Emma! He'd fought the forces of evil, and now he was going to get to live with her, and some day, they'd go back to the EverAfter place and live in a great big castle and he'd become a knight and fight dragons all day! That's what he was going to do, but he had to be with Emma, he had to be with her!

"NO! NO! Emma!" His arms wrapped around her neck and he pulled her down, hanging onto her, his own desperate tears leaking from his eyes. "Emma don't make me go! Don't let her take me! Please Emma, please!"

Strong yet shaking arms wrapped around him, lifting him up until he could wrap his legs around her waist. She held him tight, whispered in his ear, but Henry couldn't hear what she said past his own sobbing. "Emma!"

The next thing he knew a different set of arms wrapped about him, these gripping and ripping him away from Emma. He heard her sob, her voice crack, "He's just a child! You can't do this!"

His feet hit the floor as those cold arms dropped him, one clawed hand gripping his shoulder. "Of course I can! I'm his mother. You gave up that title when you threw him away!"

Henry tried to turn around, tried to grab for Emma's hand, but The Queen, his mother, shoved him back, and outside the open doorway. "We're leaving, Henry."

"NO!" Tears and sobs fell from him, and on socked feet, Henry, raced from the doorway and out into the living room, desperate for a place to hide. He came to a halt when he saw Mr. Gold standing in a floor length coat, his cane clutched in his hand, and a cruel, evil smirk upon his face.

Turning, he saw Snow White captured in the arms of Prince Charming, both looking at him with horror and resolution on their faces.

He turned back to Mr. Gold, to Rumplestiltskin, and bared his teeth, "I'm not going with her! You can't make me! I'm staying with, Emma! I won't go!"

And then, Mr. Gold did an odd thing, he lifted his cane, just as Regina began to yell once again at Emma, and tapped it lightly on the ground in rapid succession, tap, tap, tap.

Suddenly, all around Henry, time seemed to stop, there was no noise except the sound of his harsh breathing, and then the click, click, click, of Mr. Gold's cane as the man stepped forward and then dropped to his knees in front of Henry, gripping him by the shoulders.

"Listen carefully, Little Prince, for we have only seconds. Your mother is going to take you from this place, one way or another, best it be our way." His look was conspiratorial, and then gentle as he brushed away the tears on Henry's cheeks in a gesture that seems so fatherly Henry was stunned into silently listening. Mr. Gold continued, "When she comes back into the room, you are going to go with her, but before you do, you're going to say, 'Mom, can I please just grab my things first.' Say it exactly like that, do you understand, it must be exact, 'Mom, can I please just grab my things first.' She will let you go. I want you to grab the book, and then another school book and put them both in your backpack, but don't zip it up. Then whatever you do, cry as if your life depends on it, for while yours doesn't, Emma's does. Do you understand?"

Stunned, Henry nodded, wiping at his running nose.

"Good then tell me again, what are you going to say, exactly?"

He sniffled, "Mom, can I please just grab my things first."

"Good lad." Without an ounce of effort, the older man stood and returned to his position by the door. "Henry?" He nodded, "This time, my needs coincide with yours, this time, I will be The Queen's villain."

His cane hit the ground once, hard, and then the world seemed to rush forward and he could hear the end of the Queen's rant at Emma in the bedroom, before she tore out and into the living room, her sharp fingernails grabbing at Henry's arm as she stormed past, dragging him after her.

"You can't do this," cried Snow White, held back by James who gritted his teeth in his rage.

"Oh but I can," said the Queen. "For all its faults, this world has a wonderful system of power called, money. With it, you can do anything you like. I used it to acquire Henry, and I will use it to keep him."

He couldn't help it, to hear her say that, to act like he was just something she bought at the store, hurt him deeply, and Henry shook his head at her words, tears spilling over even when he fought to hold them back.

"Not to rush the fun, Madam Mayor, but it's time to go." Mr. Gold looked bored, but then he glanced at Henry, there was pain in his eyes.

"Too true. It is time to leave." Her grip hardened on Henry's arm, and for a moment all he could feel was the panic welling up in him. He was leaving, with her, she'd never let him see Emma or his family, he was going to get thrown in the dungeon and…and…

And then Henry remembered, something Mr. Gold had told him only that afternoon.

Despite all the cruelty, deep down, somewhere even Henry couldn't see, Regina Mills loved him. Even if every time she showed it, Henry got hurt, even if it made him hate her a little more every day, he had to acknowledge that she tried, though it was really hard to tell.

So Henry did what he thought was right, he pulled back, away from the Queen, felt her grip tighten and her gaze turn down to his in anger, and he said exactly what he'd been told to say, "Mom, can I please just grab my things first." He thought about throwing in something about needing his books for school, but Mr. Gold had been absolute, and Henry was afraid to screw something up by adding more.

What he saw was something he wouldn't be able to fully interpret for many years, and when he finally could come to grips with it, he'd shed tears for the woman who had once been his mother.

Regina's eyes softened immediately, her punishing grip loosened, and on her face was something akin to sadness and maybe a touch of hope. Her fingers released him and she nodded, pointing her chin at the bedroom door. "Go on, Henry."

He turned and ran, slipping in the kitchen, but pushing past Emma, not wanting to see the tears running down her face, the pain so clearly written there that if he looked, he wouldn't be able to do what Rumplestiltskin had told him too.

In his room, he dropped to his knees, wiping again at the tears that had leaked out despite his resolve. He grabbed his backpack, and shoved in his Science book, and then grabbed The Book from under his pillow and put it in his pack as well, spine up, because he thought it would be more recognizable that way.

Out in the living room, he could hear Emma, still fighting for him. "How could you say that? How could you say that while he was right there, listening to every single word you said? What kind of a heartless witch are you?"

"The kind that wins apparently, Ms. Swan, a fact you should learn well before you try to cross me again."

"Cross you? Lady, the next time I come after you, I'm not going to cross you, I'm going to ki—"

"I'm ready!" Henry cried, cutting off Emma's words, sure that a threat against the Queen would be a really bad idea for Emma. He pulled out of the room, and though he knew he shouldn't, though his brain screamed at him that this could only be bad, he just couldn't leave Emma without saying goodbye.

She was his mom, after all.

He stopped by her side, throwing his arms around her waist, and then her neck when she dropped to her knees in front of him. He knew what he had to say, Dr. Hopper had told him he'd know the right to say it, and this just felt like the right time.

With his face buried against her hair, Henry whispered the words he'd held in his heart since he'd first learned about her, his other mother, the one that would love him back the right way, "I love you, Emma."

She gave a little cry, crushing him too her, but he didn't mind, it felt so good he didn't want to let go.

"Now, Henry."

And he knew he had to go. He pulled away from Emma, literally pulled away, because she couldn't let him go herself. "It's ok, Emma, promise, I'll see you soon." He said as he disentangled himself.

The grip on his shoulder helped the rest of the way, though it was slightly painful. "We'll see about that. Now come along, Henry, it's past your bedtime."

Henry took one last look at Emma and then followed his mother to the door.

He was surprised then, when Mr. Gold reached down and snatched his backpack right out of his hand, reaching into it and extracting both his Science book, and his fairytale book. So used to protecting it with his life, Henry instinctively reached for it, "Hey, that's mine!"

Mr. Gold sneered at him, and it was so convincing, Henry pulled back, for a moment afraid of the man. "Actually, it's mine, but seeing as how the magic in it is spent, it's worthless to me."

Without preamble, Mr. Gold held The Book up in his hand, and instantly it caught fire, burring so fast and quick, all Henry could do was cry out in denial and reach up, both hands desperate, for his precious book. "NO! NO! NO!"

Beside him the Queen laughed, a wicked evil laugh that filled Henry with so much pain he could not hear the yells from his family members in the room.

Within a matter of seconds the book was nothing more than gray ash in Mr. Gold's hand, and he tipped it over, letting it fall the floor.

Sorrow and anger filled Henry. He'd trusted him, he'd trusted the person everyone told him not to trust, and now his book was gone, the words gone! He'd never be able to send them home now!

Tears of frustration and rage filled his eyes and he broke away from his mother's grasp and rushed forward, swinging as hard as he could at the man before him. "That was mine! That was my book! I hate you! I hate you!"

One aged hand came down hard and pushed him back into his mother, who caught him and held, but all Henry could see was the sneering look on Mr. Gold's face. "Hate me all you like. But all the wishing's of a simple boy will not return that book to you." With a callous look, he shoved the science book back into Henry's bag and nearly threw it at the Queen. "I'd say I was done here, wouldn't you?"

Henry didn't see his mother smile, just felt the wind like small cold slaps across his face as it hit his tear stained cheeks as the Wicked Queen dragged him to the waiting car.


	12. Chapter 12

The dock was quiet as Ruby used her cell phone as a flashlight to navigate down the short path to the place they'd discussed. The air smelled only faintly of the sea at 1am, but the wind off the water chilled her to the bone. She should have brought a warmer coat, but she hadn't exactly been thinking clearly when she'd stormed out of the house.

"Well, well, beautiful, I always knew you'd come begging for me one day."

Ice ran through Ruby's veins as she trained her flashlight on Carlos, the youngest of the Three Brothers. He was wearing a bomber jacket, and had that cocky look on his face that gave her the creeps. She swung her cell phone around in the darkness, but couldn't locate his other two brothers. She breathed a sigh of relief, Mendoza was the oldest, and the most frightening to Ruby, she was glad it was Carlos.

Deciding not to antagonize him she walked forward and got down to business. "Do you have it?"

"Patience, girly, I wanna look at you first." He made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat that reminded Ruby she was in a dark place, alone with a known gangster, and no one knew where she was.

She decided to fake bravado, "It's freezing out here, you can look at me like a piece of meat later, right now all I want is the money." She held her hand out expectantly.

He smirked, and then began to circle her. On instinct, Ruby turned with him, never showing him her back. She was keenly aware of his eyes on her, and something in the air told her to be careful.

Reaching into her pocket she extracted a ring box and tossed it to him. He caught it, but just barely. "Collateral." She said, crossing her arms over here chest in an attempt to look bored. "They're diamonds, the center is one carrot. According to Gold it's worth about $7000."

Carlos opened the lid and extracted the wedding set, examining it in the dim light. "$7000 ain't good collateral, girl, I said half."

She glared at him. "I don't have half, I have $7000, if I had half, I wouldn't need you. I'm good for it, it's not like Granny's going to fire me, and it's not like anyone ever leaves this town anyway."

Sliding the ring back into the box, Carlos snapped the lid shut and leered at her. "No problem, you could always work the other three grand off in...special favors."

Ruby's heart rate tripled even as she outwardly rolled her eyes, "Sure, swing by anytime for a free order of fries."

"That's not what I mean; don't start being difficult now that you need something." He smiled, walking up to her, his fingers going out to touch her hair and bring it to his nose to smell. "You wouldn't want me to walk away, would you?"

She stepped back, glaring at him, holding out her hand in her last attempt to bluff her way out of this situation. "If you're not going to give me the money, then give me back the ring. There are others that will give me the money."

Carlos laughed, his breath hot as it rose in the cold night air. "Like hell! If Gold was willing to give you the money you'd have taken it from him. I know how close you are to him thanks to that sister of yours." And the way he said it, as if Izzy belonged to Gold, made Ruby more determined than ever.

"Fine, $20,000, now give me the money."

He shook his head, "$15,000, I said half, but I'm being generous because it's you."

The hairs on the back of Ruby's neck suddenly stood straight up, and a furious shiver would have taken over her entire body if she hadn't forcefully stopped it. Something wasn't right, this wasn't right. She needed to get out of there, and fast.

"Whatever, $15,000 then. I pay you back $500 a month at 10% interest-"

"20%, and it's $700 a month." He smiled again, "Though we could work something out for $500 a month." And the way he licked his lips, and the sound of someone closing a lighter in the distance forced the arguments from Ruby's mind.

"Fine, now where's the money?"

He pulled out a small paper bag, wrapped over itself. He reached inside and pulled out a bundle of cash, "Since you won't be needing this," and then refolded the bag and threw it at her.

Not expecting it, she fumbled with it for a second, but that was enough, he caught her arm, his fingers bruising her flesh as he jerked her to attention in front of him, and Ruby felt the bile rise in her throat as he bared his teeth at her. "Don't try to fuck me over on this one, Ruby. I like you, which is why we're giving a pathetic little waitress such a huge amount of cash. But trust me, you don't want to mess with me. Got it?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Then he released her, his smile back in place as he turned around and walked back down the pathway she'd come. Over his shoulder he threw back, "I get paid weekly, Ruby, or you get hurt. It's as easy as that."

"Oh," and he turned around to look back at her, "I think I'll come in for those fries too. And if you're not there, I'll just get Izzy to bring them to me."

Terror filled Ruby at what he was really saying, really telling her would happen if she tried to run. He laughed, then turned around and walked back up the pathway.

Ruby just sat right where she'd been standing and tried to stop the darkness from closing in on her.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note:

From here on out, all new chapters. Note that I started this story way back in February of 2012, right after Skin Deep aired. It's obviously AU now, and we have a lot more information to work with than we did back then. Some of it I'll try to incorporate in this story and some of it I will leave alone.

I'm interested in what you liked about the story and what you don't like. I love positive reviews, but learn a lot more about my writing through constructive critique. Please don't hesitate to tell me you don't like it, or that someone's too whiny, or annoying or something doesn't fit or I have a plot hole I missed. I've tried REALLY hard to write Mr. Gold and Rumplestiltskin accurately, and tried to get the speech patterns down of the speaking characters (except for Belle who I invented because we really don't know what her speech patterns would be like cursed), so if you see something off, please let me know.

And PLEASE, if you stop reading this story because you don't like something, tell me what it is before you go! It's so important to know why people stop reading a story before it's finished. I've stopped reading before because I can't stand the plot, don't believe the characters are realistic, etc, and if I do something like that, I'd really like to know about it. The story is a "big ship" but it can be turned if it's going in a direction that annoys.

* * *

><p>"What can I get you folks? Oh hey, Dr. Hopper." Izzy smiled, trying to be cheerful in the dim atmosphere of The Cove. The bar was hopping tonight, with all manner of people coming in to look for love, forget about love, or ignore love, there seemed to be little other reason for people to congregate.<p>

Except, as she raised her pencil to her pad of paper, here was a rather interesting mixture of individuals that didn't exactly fit that description. Dr. Hopper was offering her a fake smile, his concern evident under the look. Next to him, Emma Swann was eyeing her suspiciously. Leroy wouldn't make eye contact with her from his spot at the back of the booth, and then there were Mary Margaret and David cuddled up next to each other with concerned expressions on their faces.

Isabelle quirked an eyebrow, "Who died?"

The others just looked at each other, but no one commented. Izzy shrugged, whatever, she had other tables to get too, and she was feeling particularly cranky tonight. Never mind that it was almost 9:30pm, and Izzy, really, really didn't want to see Mr. Gold tonight; or that as far as she could tell she hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep the night before.

"Sorry Isabelle, we were just talking about Henry. How are you feeling tonight?" Dr. Hopper asked, too clinical for Izzy's taste. She loved him, owed him her life even, but he could be so damn clinical sometimes.

She shrugged her shoulder. "Fine. Tired. What's up with, Henry?" The boy was cute, she didn't like the idea of something being wrong with him.

David spoke up first, "It's nothing. Regina got back into town sooner than expected, and, well, Henry was just disappointed he couldn't stay with Emma longer."

Izzy found that at once understandable and ridiculous. She had no doubt that the Mayor probably raced back from her vacation to get Henry away from his birth mother; why she'd allowed Henry to stay with her at all was a mystery. But Izzy felt sympathy for the boy, every time she'd seen him interacting with his mom it tugged at something deep within her. It felt wrong, the way she treated him, so cold and controlling, but she wasn't the best judge of familial love, so she generally tried not to dwell on it.

Besides, Izzy had her own reasons for wanting to stay away from the Mayor now, all thanks to her own stupidity. Why was she always the one to make bad things happen, to herself and to others?

Outwardly, she nodded and said, "Well that's too bad, I'm sure it was nice having him around, Emma." She didn't stop to let the other woman answer, she wasn't particularly close to Emma, not like Ruby was. "Anyway, what can I get you?"

She took their drink orders, noticing Leroy shook his head when she got to him, and then gave a quick smile and turned back to the bar.

Dogging bodies of half-naked girls, and the puffed up chests of hungry boys, Izzy got back to the bar and started pouring. The other bartenders sometimes put on a show during the weekdays, but things were too busy to do much other than just pour, serve, and repeat. Other's called their drinks over the counter, and Izzy called out her understanding, mixing everything at once, trying to maximize her efforts.

By the time she'd taken the drinks back to the table, and turned to head back to the bar, Eric was on the mike, his voice silencing the room. "Settle down people, we have a VERY generous offer on the table, I think you're all going to want to hear!" The room whooped, and Izzy shook her head as she made her way back to the bar. On instinct, she glanced at their booth in the back, and her heart jumped in her chest.

He was sitting there, staring at her.

She looked way and walked around the bar. He shouldn't have come. What was he trying to do? Didn't what happened with the Mayor have any impact on him at all? Didn't he realize she was a needy, freakish, psycho who was only going to drag his reputation through the mud if he didn't stay away from her?

Over the loudspeaker, Eric continued, "We have a Song Bird request, and this time, Carlos is offering to pay for a free round of drinks for everyone!" The bar erupted into whoops and hollers and a number of high fives as the bar showed their appreciation for the generous offer.

Song Bird requests were pretty simple. Usually, a group of girls would request a song to be sung by one of their girlfriends after she'd drunk one too many, and the poor thing would humiliate herself on stage. They didn't usually come with such generous offers, so Izzy found herself a bit intrigued; after all, this town could drink.

Eric used his hands to quiet the crowd, "OK hold on, this one is specific! The singer can't know what the song is until it starts," the crowed went nuts again, "And, AND, the request is for none other than our own, Izzy French!"

OK, that caught her attention. Looking up, the crowd around her cried out, chanting her name as Carlos took the stage and started fingering through the catalogue of songs available on the Karaoke machine. She wasn't a bad singer, but she wasn't someone that others would buy a round of drinks over.

But as the crowd began to chant her name, Izzy felt the pressure to smile and wave her hand in the air before walking around the bar and approaching the stage. The crowd cheered louder as she made a concerted effort not to turn in Mr. Gold's direction.

Carlos wanted her to sing? That was odd; he obviously had a thing for Ruby, and though he'd pinched her ass a couple of times since she started working at The Cove, he'd never expressed any kind of interest in her.

As she took the stairs, Eric smiled at her, and his look was encouraging as he handed her the mike. Over the crowd he shouted, "ISABELLE FRENCH!" And town went wild. She smiled, laughing self-consciously as she brought the mike up to her chest and blinked against the bright stage lights. She'd sung before of course, but not like this, with so much fanfare and a round of free drinks riding on it. Glancing over at Carlos, she smiled at him, but the look he gave her back was a little too friendly, too cheerful, too forced, and suddenly, something felt very wrong, to Izzy.

Looking up, she glanced over the crowd and saw Dr. Hopper smiling at her. Maybe she'd misread the situation, if he was smiling at her, then it was probably ok. He wasn't the type to be persuaded by a free drink.

But even as she willed herself not too, her eyes rose and trained on the back corner of the bar, where Mr. Gold sat. But unlike Dr. Hopper, his look wasn't friendly, wasn't full of smiling encouragement. His was dark and dangerous, and not at all directed at her.

It was then she felt Carlos slide up against her back, his hand resting on her ass as he whispered in her ear, "Enjoy the song, girly."

She pulled away from him, swinging to her side to glare at him as he exited the stage, jumping off to have his back pounded by the other male patrons as he walked back to his table, where his other two brothers sat, smiling up at her.

Something felt really, really wrong. She turned her head back towards Mr. Gold, her eyes catching his, but she couldn't read his expression as the Karaoke machine clicked into place, and then Isabelle turned her head to see the title of the song pop up on the screen.

The moment it did, the cheering praise of the crowd died into silence.

Isabelle drew in a deep breath, pulling the microphone in tight against her chest, fighting not to take a step away from the monitor that splashed the words across the screen.

"Papa Don't Preach, As Sung By Madonna"

Izzy's stomach rolled, and she blinked, silently begging the title to be wrong. But then the music started, and from the table where the three brother's sat, riotous laughter.

She closed her eyes. Heard Eric yelling, the sound filling the silent bar, but Izzy couldn't hear what he was saying. She was counting.

1, 2, 3

It's ok, it's going to be ok.

4, 5, 6

Just breathe, Izzy, just breathe.

7, 8, 9

Please help me!

Someone took the microphone from her hand, "I think a new song is in order, don't you?"

Her eyes flashed open, and there he was, standing in front of her, a calm smile on his face as he looked over at her. "What do you say, Dearie, you're choice this time." He indicated the machine behind him. "And to sweeten the deal," his eyes softened only for her benefit, "I'll cover everyone's tab for the rest of the night."

No one shouted their approval, the crowd watching Izzy intently, some saddened for her, others angry that Gold was still insisting she sing.

But Izzy knew, he wasn't tearing her down, he was building her back up. Only she controlled her own fate, no one else could.

She nodded, taking the mike from him, and walked over to the machine and punched in the numbers she knew by heart. She glanced back up at him, where he'd moved towards the stairs but had not stepped off yet, and she knew he wouldn't. He'd stand there until she was done, and then they'd share her break together.

In her mind, she blanked out the silent crowd, forgot for the moment why it was so important that he not be seen with her, and just relished the knowledge that he had saved her yet again, and she loved him more than anything or anyone else in all the world.

When, Jessica Simpsons "I Wanna Love You Forever" began to play, Izzy didn't care that she couldn't hit every note, she let the words wash over her and through her, and thought about his gentle voice, his warm hands, his kind smiles, and the smell of dust, and she sang.

When she finished, she didn't hear the crowd erupt into shouts of praise, or hear the catcalls, she just put the mike back into the stand, walked to his side, and let him escort her back to their table, his hand resting comfortingly along her spine as she walked with her head held high.


	14. Chapter 14

Ignoring everyone else, Izzy slid into the booth, closing her eyes as the fabric muffled the sound of the tavern returning to normal as the crowd mobbed the bar to over indulge on Mr. Gold's generosity. As he took his place across from her, Izzy could see the pride shining in his eyes. For a moment she stared blankly at him, things not quite in perspective yet. Shaking her head, she turned and looked around the side of the booth, noting that the table where the Three Brothers had been sitting was now vacant. She turned back around, confusion on her face.

Mr. Gold shrugged, "Eric," he said, as if that should answer every question, and maybe it did. Eric was protective of his staff, throwing out a group who'd tried to humiliate one of his team seemed to be in his play book.

Then suddenly, the full weight of what had just happened hit her, hard, and Izzy felt her eyes widen, her spine straighten, and a noticeable trembling begin throughout her entire body. She saw concern flash across his face, before she closed her eyes, not wanting to see this, needing to retreat someplace dark and quiet so she could regroup, re-center.

"Izzy! Are you alright? Izzy?" Dr. Hopper's voice came from right next to her ear, and Izzy pulled back, startled, the sound too loud in the silent world she was trying to build.

She turned to him, saw the concern and pity mix on his face, and felt anger rise within her. She looked down at her hands, fisted in her lap, knuckles white. "I'm fine, nothing I can't handle."

"Are you sure? You've had a rough couple of days. Do you want to step outside for some air?" She knew he was trying to help, knew he cared about her like few others did, but right now, he was invading her space, and taking up _there_ time together. He didn't belong in this moment.

Her voice came out harder than she would have liked. "I said I'm fine." Then she tried again, sighing this time to release her frustration, "It's not like it's the first time something like this has happened." Her mind replayed other moments, cruel moments, and her mood grew darker.

"Izzy, you're trembling-" Dr. Hopper's hand reached out and touched her arm. A thousand memories of a hundred insults rushed her, and without meaning to, she exploded.

Jerking away, she glared at him. "I said I'm fine! How many more times do you want me to say it? Some asshole just reminded me that my childhood was a fucking nightmare, but he didn't have too, I see it every day in the mirror!"

Turning away from him, she lifted the shoulder closest to him, using her body like a shield. "Now if you don't mind, I'm on break. Go get one of the other girls to bring you a free drink or something."

He couldn't stop, not wouldn't, couldn't, he was her doctor after all, and he cared about her. "If you're sure-"

"Just leave me alone!" The glare she threw at him was one of her best ever, and she saw him pull back as if struck, unused to such a reaction. But she was tired, so very tried, and all she wanted to do was crawl into the dark shadows of the booth and regroup.

He nodded, rising to his feet. His eyes so sad when he looked down at her, that Izzy wanted to rake her nails across his face. How dare he act as if she was so weak, so pathetic; even if it was true, he had no right to show it! She turned away, examining the black edge of the table, her arms wrapped around herself. A moment later, when she could no longer feel him beside her, she knew he'd walked away.

And then, it was just the two of them. Movement caught her attention, and her head shot up, in time to see Mr. Gold stand from his side of the booth, his long wool jacket in his hands. Suddenly terrified she'd angered him, disgusted him, she felt the plea well up in her throat, would have voiced it, but the feel of his warm jacket surrounding her shoulders startled her into snapping her jaw shut.

He leaned down, as best he could over the booth, with a bad leg, and an awkwardly long jacket and did his best to tuck her into it, even pulling the edges together over her crossed arms. The look he gave her was not of pity or sadness, it was still that same look of beaming pride, and Isabelle sat dumbfounded as his hand traced her shoulder and rested on her arm just a moment before he stepped back and reclaimed his place across from her.

"Take your time, Dearie, no need to rush."

What was it about his voice that made her feel so safe? She turned her head to look away from him, deeper into the booth, and her nose bumped the edge of his jacket, and she pulled in his scent, drawing it deep into her lungs. There was that dust, but something else as well, earthy and spicy all at the same time. It comforted her, and without realizing she was doing it, she pulled the edges of the jacket closer and snuggled in, resting her head against the wall, feeling the cool brick ease her, as the warmth of his jacket helped calm the violent shaking.

They sat there for a long time, long enough for Eric to bring her a glass of water and tell her she could have the rest of the night off, and for her to refuse, she wasn't going to let a bunch of juvenile idiots do that to her. They sat there in complete silence while the bar grew loud once again, and the tremors lessened and then faded away into the warmth and scent of him.

After a while, she snaked her hand out from the comfort of his jacket and picked up the water glass, sipping it slowly. She glanced up at him and then looked away, his expression was still praising. "I shouldn't have said that to Dr. Hopper, he was only trying to help."

"Perhaps," she looked back up at him, and he caught her eye, "But you can't argue with results, Dearie."

She gave a faint chuckle and looked away. "Sorry you had to see me like that-hear me like that," and in the dim bar, she felt her cheeks stain with the memory of her colorful word choices.

"I'm not," she looked up to see him smiling slightly, "I'm glad to know you can take care of yourself."

Izzy laughed, a self-depreciating sound, "Right, I'm so good at that. That's why I'm tucked back here, nursing a glass of ice water. That's why you had to rescue me on that stage tonight. I'm so good at taking care of myself, that I feel like I'm going to fall apart any moment."

Across from her, he shook his head, "You're in no danger of that, Belle."

"How do you know?" She challenged back.

He didn't hesitate, just answered her with the truest words, "Because I'd hold you together." His eyes locked and held hers, his hand reaching out across the table to take hers, "You have my word."

His hand cupping hers was at once calming, and she let out a sigh, grateful to have him there. When his fingers gripped her hand instead, she looked up at him. "I'm proud of you, Belle. That was no easy thing, but you've always been braver than the rest." He squeezed, and she couldn't help the smile that drifted across her features to be answered by his.

Here, in the back booth of a small town bar, Isabelle felt isolated from the tragedies of the outside world. Tired, with a dozen nightmares under her belt, she had every right to fear the things this world had given her, but she struggled on, pushed forward, because people loved her, even when they shouldn't.

Sadness crept into her expression, and Izzy pulled her hand back from his and tucked it within the folds of his coat. Looking away, she examined the crowd, her eyes lost in the sea of crushing bodies. Nuzzling the collar of his coat, she spoke quietly, not wanting to say the words, but knowing they had to be said.

"What, what did the Mayor say, after I left?" She wouldn't look at him, knowing she needed to hear his voice, knowing she could hear the truth in that.

She heard his arm slide back over the table as he settled back against the booth. "Nothing much. Apparently she forgot about an important meeting and had to rush back to town. That appears to include stopping at my business to ensure I haven't managed to take over the town yet."

She should have smiled, it was a joke after all, but it wasn't the truth she'd wanted to hear, so she pressed forward, knowing if he hadn't mentioned it, it couldn't be good. "What did she say about me?"

"Nothing you should be concerned about, Dearie. The Mayor likes to remind me that she's a force to be reckoned with, but in truth, she recently gave away the last of her cards, and I don't think she knows yet that she's lost." He reached out and took his own double scotch into his hand and brought it to his lips, "As I said, nothing to worry about."

"She threatened you, didn't she? She wants to use me to hurt you."

He was deathly silent for a moment too long, and Belle looked up to see him staring into the ice of his drink. The crowd dimmed to rushing noise as she continued to stare at him. Finally, he broke the silence, and his words haunted her, "She already did, Dearie."

Belle had no idea what that meant, but ice formed in her veins and the trembling started all over again. Concern painted her face, and she leaned back, afraid to know the truth even as she was compelled to ask for it. Her soft voice waivered from the stress, "Mr. Gold, what did she do?"

Slowly, his eyes rose to capture hers, and though his expression was blank, she could still see something she couldn't name brewing behind his ageless eyes. His right hand left his drink and extended across the table, and without thinking about it, Belle matched his gesture until they were connected, his thumb brushing over her knuckles softly.

Ten years of longing filled Isabelle's mind. Ten long years of growing up broken, and wanting nothing more than his quiet, special brand of comfort; his soothing voice, his gentle way, the smell of dust, and his soft smiles, only ever for her. She wanted to melt into him, ignore reality, forget the truth, and slide out of her side of the booth and crawl into his lap. She knew, he'd welcome her, fold her in, those long warm fingers of his, would comb through her hair, the light stubble on his cheek would gently brush her forehead as he whispered nonsense to her, just as he had so long ago in her hospital room.

His voice was thick, his accent pronounced, "She lied to me, Belle, a lie that cost more than can ever be repaid. No amount of vengeance will ever erase it all, but for you, I will endeavor for nothing less." Leaning forward then, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. Warm heat exploded along Isabelle's body, as his lips brushed a chaste, but powerful kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her breath caught in her chest, a tiny gasp of sound, and his eyes lifted to hers, and they were filled with such knowledge, such devotion, and a longing that she felt depth of her heart exactly matched her own.

His hand slid over her own, but she didn't pull back, instead her fingers opened, her palm turned, and then she was touching his face, cradling his cheek. His fingers shackled her wrist, holding her to him, as he closed his eyes, nuzzled into her touch, and caught his breath. She felt the day old stubble, the cut lines of his face, and the warmth of his skin. Hesitantly, the tips of her fingers moved, caressing his face, her mind in awe that he was allowing this, that he might really feel the same. Hope filled her chest, infused her with courage, and she took the time to memorize every detail of the way he looked. Vulnerable, laid bare before her, willing her to do what she would.

Mr. Gold was not a handsome man, but his soul was beautiful, and she loved him with every part of her that had ever existed.

"Careful Ms. French, the whole town is watching."

Isabelle pulled back as if struck, her head thrown to the side to see Regina standing over their booth, her dark coat folded over her arm. Her look was predatory, and Izzy felt the need to crawl into the deepest hole she could find for protection. With a start, she realized too late, that Mr. Gold was still shackling her wrist though it was now on the table. She could feel his tension through their link, his fingers tightened painfully against her wrist, but she was more terrified of the Mayor than she was the pain.

She heard him growl across from her, and swung her head around to look at him in shock. "Don't force my hand, Regina."

The Mayor leaned forward, eye level and right into his face, "Or you'll what? Kill me? You're not strong enough for that. A few nightmares, maybe, but you're next to powerless here, Rumple." Her smile was so evil, so consuming, that Izzy couldn't help but focus on that look of hatred she leveled at him.

She should have been paying more attention.

His other hand shot out, grabbed the Mayor's arm and drew her even closer. Izzy saw the surprise and pain flash across Regina's face for a moment before her sneer was back in place, but the damage was already done. Gold pulled her mercilessly forward and whispered in her ear, low and dark, then the hand that had been around Isabelle's wrist released her like a flash, and ripped the scarf from around the Mayor's neck, revealing a deep purple bruise that had distinctive marks mirroring fingers.

Snapping back, the Mayor straightened and grabbed her scarf from the table top. She turned then, away from Gold and looked coldly down at Isabelle, her eyes savagely captivating. "Watch his temper, Ms. French, you will find his cruelty surpasses anything your father ever did to you."

"Regina-"

"If there's one thing I've learned, Rumple," and she turned from him to look down at Izzy with mocking sadness, "it's that lies and treachery only hurt the ones we love most. I wonder how Ms. French will feel when she learns the truth, don't you?"

"Nice night, isn't it, Regina?" Izzy's eyes focused behind the Mayor to see Emma, and Dr. Hopper's entire table behind her. They all appeared in various stages of murderous glare, and Izzy felt confused and frightened.

"Every night Henry is with me, where he belongs, is a nice night, Ms Swan. Speaking of which I need to return to him, I just needed to confirm that the little disturbance involving Ms. French was now in hand." The Mayor turned her head to glance over her shoulder at Isabelle, "Don't worry, Izzy, I'm sure the town will stop talking about it in a few weeks, after all, it's not nearly as sensational as your last suicide attempt, now is it?"

Izzy gasped, felt Mr. Gold's hand try to take hers before she pulled it back as if burned.

The Mayor just smiled, an evil, wicked smile and Izzy didn't understand what she'd done to deserve, before she turned and walked away. As she did, Izzy realized the entire bar was staring at them, that in the silence, they'd all heard the Mayor's parting words, and Izzy no longer knew what to do.

What had Regina meant? Why was she suddenly taking an interest in Isabelle? What had just happened between herself and Mr. Gold? Why did she feel so incredibly scared, as if the world was caving in on her and she wouldn't get out of this one alive?

"Belle," Deer eyes, wide and terrified turned to look at him, and sorrow fell across his features to replace the rage. His hand extended across the table, beseeching, reaching for hers, "Belle."

And from the far corner of the bar, a drunken voice filled the empty space, sounding like a shotgun, and feeling the same way to Isabelle French, "No way, he's old enough to be her father!"

Izzy bolted, threw herself from the booth, elbowing past Dr. Hopper, ignoring his call. Racing around the bar, she threw open the backroom door and spilled into the storage room, before ducking behind the scotch cases and letting the humiliation and fear drive out all her other thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: I received a lot of confused notes about why Ruby went to The Three Brothers and why she needs the money. To this I'd say, there's a reason, and hopefully you're going to like it. To those of you who are saddened by Izzy's preoccupation with what everyone else thinks about her relationship with Gold, and her lack of self-esteem...I think you're going to like the next two chapters. Remember, The Curse was designed to make sure only the Queen had a happy ending, so like a meek Snow White or a wishy-washy Prince Charming, Belle is not as confident or self-assured within The Curse.

Thank you to everyone who reviews, it means so much to me to know that you're enjoying the story.

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><p>"Are you sure, you're ok to go home on your own, Izzy? I feel like a jerk sending you into the night after everything that's happened."<p>

Izzy offered a watery smile, hoping it was better than she knew it actually was, as she struggled into her jacket. "I'm ok. Besides, the walk will do me some good." She shrugged, there wasn't much more she could say. At three in the morning she was exhausted, having shaken like a fall leaf, in the back room all night. She'd attempted to go back onto the floor, but the looks, the drunken, knowing stares forced her back, and Eric finally tucked her into his cramped little office to do some much needed filing. The mindless work hadn't done Izzy any favors, forcing her to replay every moment from the past few days, but especially the last few hours.

"If you're sure?" Eric asked, concern in his dark eyes, his arm half way into his jacket, his look almost begging her to take him up on the ride.

Izzy nodded. "I'll go out the front door and hit the lights." She turned, no longer wanting to hash out arguments. She just wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Forgetting anything from tonight had ever happened would be too much to hope for, but she wished it none the less.

She could still feel the warmth of his kiss against the inside of her wrist, and subconsciously, she rubbed at the spot as she skirted her way around tables and stacked chairs.

Maybe she didn't want to forget everything.

Or maybe she did. Maybe it would be better to forget that look on his face, the one that looked so much like the one that stared back at her when she looked down the street at his shop from her bedroom window.

If the Mayor was really trying to hurt Mr. Gold, somehow using her to do it, Izzy couldn't let that happen. The man was obviously no good at taking care of himself, especially where Izzy was concerned. How many years had endured the whispers and innuendos, always sacrificing his good name to make sure Isabelle was safe? It was more than just him being a kind man, she'd seen it tonight, and if the truth were to be told, she'd seen it before, just couldn't admit it to herself. But as the inside of her wrist tingled with the memory, she couldn't help replaying it over in her mind.

With a sign, Izzy reached for the lock on the door. Mr. Gold might really care for her, or maybe he'd grown to love her since she was quite possibly the only nice person in town to him, but that gratitude couldn't be the basis of anything more than heartbreak. Eventually, he'd grow angry and bitter about the fact that she'd cost him everything, and he'd turn on her, reject her, and Izzy knew, she couldn't live with that possibility.

Besides, if the Mayor really was gunning for him, then Izzy needed to stay away from him. The closer she was to him, the more likely he was to get hurt trying to protect her. She shivered remembering every syllable Regina Mills had said, and the looks that told her everything she hadn't. She wasn't messing around, she intended to make life difficult for Mr. Gold, and whether he liked it or not, Izzy couldn't be the reason he got hurt.

With her hand on the lock, she paused, turning her head to look back at their booth. She remembered everything, the look in his eyes, his promise, the way he'd taken her hand, the warmth of his coat, the aching in his eyes that so mirrored everything she felt whenever she thought of him.

Angry at herself for thinking about it again, Izzy rested her forehead against the coolness of the door. It was too much, too much to hope that after all these years of secretly wanting him to want her, that he could suddenly feel the same as she did.

That made her pause and she shook her head. No, not suddenly, that kind of look wasn't sudden. She had always seen part of that look, but never quite so desperate. A part of him had always cared about her a bit too much; the cheap loan to Granny, the doctor's fees covered, the constant small kindnesses over the last ten years. She hadn't changed, if the truth be told she was worse now than she had been. She was on more medication that ever, she had three suicide attempts under her belt, she'd turned from the kind child she'd been meant to be, into a harder, colder version of her former self.

She hadn't changed, so he must have. A man his age, with no friends to speak of, no one else to talk to so that the highlight of his day was to spend five minutes with the pretty waitress at the local diner...he was just lonely, desperate, under stress from trying to protect her from the Mayor, of protecting her when he should be focused on protecting himself. He was confused, and if she didn't stop it now, he was going to do the only thing he could do to her.

He was going to finally break her.

It would be better to love him from afar than to see cold bitterness set in when he realized he'd made a mistake, when he'd confused gratitude and stress for a sudden case of mistaken love.

She could see it now, she'd have built her would around him, so grateful to be in his presence that she wouldn't even notice that he'd been pulling away from her for weeks. Their relationship out in the open, his business was losing customers, and he was using the true excuse of working late trying to keep his business afloat just to put some distance between them. But she wouldn't see it; she'd be blind to it all. At first he'd try, make excuses, fail to comment rather than criticize, but eventually, one day, he'd crack. Maybe he'd scream at her, something she imagined only in her nightmares he'd ever do to her. Maybe he'd buy her a very nice dinner, and then tell her she'd cost him everything that he was leaving town, leaving her, that he'd grown to hate her...

Izzy swiped at the tears leaking from her closed eyes. She saw it now, no matter how cruel or kind, she'd end up in the same place, staring over the bluff at the rock ledge two hundred feet below. But this time, no amount of pleading from Ruby would be able to keep her from jumping. She'd welcome it really, if all she had left to look forward to was a lifetime of knowing he didn't want her anymore.

A sob caught in Izzy's throat, and she put her hand over her mouth to hold the others in. This was her greatest fear, and here it was, right in front of her. He'd break her without even knowing he was doing it, destroy himself, and then hate her for it. She wouldn't survive it, she couldn't. She needed to protect him, to protect herself, and Isabelle knew only one way to do it, even if it killed her anyway.

At least he'd be spared.

Tears fell down her face, but she brushed them away, angry at herself. She couldn't show weakness. She needed to face reality. She was a broken, husk of a woman, whose only future was limited at best. She wasn't supposed to stand next to someone as kind, and understanding, as loving as Mr. Gold. She was supposed to jump, and eventually she would.

That was her true fate.

Sniffling, Izzy threw the lock and opened the door, stepping out into the midnight blackness of the witching hour. She turned, locking the door before throwing the keys inside her purse. She wouldn't be sad about this, she wouldn't waiver. She had a mission, she was going to protect the man she loved, no matter what it cost her.

Tucking her hands into her jacket pockets, Izzy turned to head home, and stopped stone still at the sight of Mr. Gold, leaning on his elegant cane, standing there, obviously waiting for her, under the soft glow of the street lamp.

His soft smile turned into an immediate frown, as he saw the state she was in, and he walked towards her, his cane clicking, echoing throughout the hollow streets of Storybrooke.

Isabelle couldn't move, just stood there, watching him approach, everything she'd just thought gone with the sight of him, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his eyes haunted. The moment his skin touched hers, she was lost, her resolve shattered into a thousand little pieces. His fingers moved into her hair, his thumb brushing away the tear stains that raced down her cheeks.

"Belle?" How could his voice be so soft, so gentle when all she felt was need and turmoil?

Against that voice, all she could do was shake her head in denial. She prayed for strength, she begged herself to pull away, to do what had to be done, to protect him as he had always protected her. But in the end, she was still just a broken girl.

Her hand came up, fisting in his jacket, holding him to her even if she couldn't pull him closer. Her head continued to shake back and forth, and though her mind screamed at her, Izzy couldn't let him go.

He made short work of her remaining resolve. The warm hand at her cheek, circled to the back of her neck, just as his other hand encircled her waist, his cane tapping the back of her leg as he pulled her forward and into his chest, holding her against him as he whispered comforting words against her ear.

And those words, those quiet, soft words spoken in his musical Scottish brogue, damned them both. "It's alright now. You're save now, my love. She can never hurt you again, I swear it, I swear it, Belle."

Her mind begged him to say it again, just one more time, and her small hands came up, worked their way past his open coat and fisted into his dark silk shirt, the warmth of him radiating to her, making her feel safe in the middle of the dark street.

A sure hand fisted into her hair, another into the back of her shirt, low at her hips, and his breath was hot and moist as he cast his promises. "No one will ever hurt you again, Belle. I won't let them. I won't let you go. I won't let you go ever again."

Panic shot hot and fast through her body, and with a great push, and wail, she pushed away from him, her eyes haunted as she looked up at him, because she knew the truth; no matter all his pretty words, one day he would push her away.

He'd done it before.

"What are you doing?!" She hissed at him, her fear for him morphing into something she had never felt for him before, anger. Her foot retreated, taking another step away from him.

"Belle-" He was stunned, lost for words; the look not at all suited to the smooth talking gentleman who's every note haunted her ears.

She shook her head, her hair flying wildly. She opened her mouth, but the words she would have said only begged him for forgiveness, so she snapped her jaw shut and spun around, stalking into the darkness.

After five steps, she knew he was following her. The comforting click, click of his cane drove her forward, and she didn't hesitate, didn't slow, just kept her pace, her mind reeling, as she made for the sanctuary of her bedroom; the quiet solitude of her cell.

"Belle!" There was worry in his voice, but that wasn't what stopped her, it was the note of anger. He was angry with her! How dare he be angry at her for trying to protect him!

He was closer than she'd thought, and he caught up to her in a few quick steps, his hand reaching out to capture her elbow as he pulled her a step forward. He looked frustrated, a look he sometimes had when dealing with Emma Swan, but never with her. She didn't like that look.

Swallowing, the extra speed not something he was used to exerting, his grip on her elbow tightening, "You've had a rough evening-"

Anger lanced through her again, and she scoffed, pulling out of his grasp. She let it rise within her, allowed anger for other things in her life to consume her, because she had too little fuel for the task at hand if she focused solely on her anger at him. She needed to be strong, she needed to be cold, she needed to be Isabelle French, not his Belle.

"A rough evening?! Is that what you want to call it?" Her accent was thick as her words rushed forward, unheeding of the silence around them in the quiet night. "I'd say it was a lot worse than just a 'rough evening', unless you're often humiliated in public, twice, and threatened by the Mayor. No, all in a nights work! But don't worry, the tips were fantastic, or they would have been, if I wasn't cowering in the office all night trying to forget everything that happened!" She spun again, prepared to take off down the street, she was only a few blocks from home, she could make it.

"She will not hurt you!" His voice was strong, dangerous, and deadly, and Izzy turned at it, unaccustomed to hearing him speak this way around her, though she'd heard rumors. At her attention, he took another step forward, close enough she could feel his warmth in the cool night air. "Regina cannot hurt you, Belle-"

She lost it, felt her self-control snap in two as she threw her hands out to the side and laid her pain bare. "But she can hurt you! She can hurt, YOU! Don't you see that? Don't you understand? She can hurt you; she can destroy you!" He was shaking his head at her, his long hair floating in the wind in a way that felt wrong, and made her anger come easier. "You can deny it all you want, but I know what she said, she wants to use me to hurt you, and we both know she can!"

He reached for her again, but she pulled away, furious with him, "I know you hear them, the whole town talks about it. The loan shark with the soft spot for the broken waitress. It's practically a romance novel, but this isn't a romance novel, this is real life!" Izzy stalked forward, and later, she'd realize that he took a step back. "The people in this town will make or break your business, and the Mayor has the power to do all sorts of things to you. They already," she faltered and then recovered her resolve, "They already say you're obsessed with me. That you can't even go a single day without seeing me, without stalking me! They say you're perverted, a desperate lonely man making time with the pretty waitress; and why not?! It's not like she has many prospects anyway. The daughter of that religious psycho, beaten within an inch of her life, scarred for all time in her broken body, and fluffy gray sweater! So what if he gives her cheap money, she earns it right? She can't just be bringing him pie for the kind of attention he gives her! Her sister might be a slut, but that one, she's the real whore in thi-"

Lightening fast hands grabbed her arms, and hauled her forward, crushing her against his chest. His voice was desperate and haunted, begging, "Stop, Belle, stop."

But she couldn't stop, if she stopped, she'd never be able to do this again, she'd never be able to do what had to be done to protect him.

With all of her strength, she shoved him away from her, watched him stumble to regain his footing. But she couldn't wait for him to regain his balance, she had to act now. "No, you just don't want to see the truth! You come in for pie every day and expect this town not to make up rumors?! You wait outside a club all night for me and don't expect people to guess at what you're hoping will happen tonight?! You play with my life and yours by taunting the Mayor, and you never think twice about it!"

She saw it then, clear as day, it had been there all along, under the surface, a hidden truth. He knew everything she'd said was true, he'd ignored it, told himself it didn't matter because she never acted like it affected her; and it didn't, but to protect him, she'd pretend it did. Pain rested in every feature on his face, a kind that broke her heart and strengthened her resolve. She had to fight for him, to sacrifice for him, or she'd be the cause of his pain and she could never, ever be that.

"I-" her heart gave a shudder, screaming at her for silence, begging her not to say the next words. But she ignored it, focusing on what had to be the right thing. "I want-I want you to stay away from me!" She felt like her head was going to explode, her heart beating so wildly, the thunder in her ears so loud, she didn't think it could be real. "I want you to stay away! No more coming to the dinner for pie, no more coming to the bar, no more anything! Stay away from me!"

Her words had their intended reaction, he pulled inwards, his frame caving in on itself, as he struggled, leaning against his cane even more for support. His eyes were filled with horror, and seemingly against his notice, his hand, with those long sure fingers, came up, questing, searching, begging her.

"Belle-"

And though her world narrowed to that one torturous heartbeat, she said what she had to, to keep him safe, "I wish I'd never met you!"

He stumbled as if struck, his bad leg giving out on him, and he just barely managed to catch himself on his cane. Horror and denial warred upon his face, but Izzy couldn't look, she couldn't bare to see it.

Her body felt numb and yet raced with adrenaline. She could feel herself shaking uncontrollably and shoved her hands in her coat pockets hoping to disguise. The voice inside her head screamed at her to take it all back, to deny it, that despite how strong he may look, he was more delicate than even she knew, more breakable. But she couldn't go back, she knew this was the only way to protect him, the only thing a broken waitress could do to protect the most powerful man in town against a wicked witch.


	16. Chapter 16

Closing her eyes against the pain, she fought for her own inner strength, trying to show it on her face, her determination, but it was no use his voice told her, he could see her own weakness, and he was a master at taking advantage of the weak.

"You don't mean that."

Opening her eyes, Isabelle tried not to let the shock show on her face, she tried for bitterness, but she was fairly certain the only thing that showed was resolve.

She shook her head, no longer able to maintain eye contact with him in the silent street, "I do. I-I mean it."

His cane clicked on the sidewalk, and she looked up in time to see him straighten, gaining strength from her unspoken truth. "No, Belle, you don't. You couldn't. The curse may try to keep us apart, but it cannot change how we feel."

Confusion flit across her face, but no matter what he said, or how clearly he could see the truth on her, she couldn't back down. Izzy would protect him, she had to; no one else mattered as much as he did.

She turned around and started walking home. Over her shoulder she heard his cane, and winced. Didn't he understand, couldn't he see she was doing this all for him? didn't he know he was killing her? She spoke into the night, knowing her words would strike him, "I don't know what you're talking about. It's late Mr. Gold, three o'clock in the morning! Go home!"

Blood pounding in her ears, Izzy made it an entire block, before she realized she couldn't hear his cane. A rush of fear enveloped her heart, and she spun on her heels, looking for him in the street lamps-but the sidewalk behind her was empty, and her heart felt like it was broken into a thousand pieces.

Would he...would he just let her go?

No.

Against everything she knew to be logical and sane, he was suddenly behind her, his warmth pressed instantly against her back as his arms came up and around her shoulders and waist, locking her against him as his face brushed against her hair. His fingers danced against her hip and shoulder, and she couldn't help it when her traitorous body melted against his in the dim shadows between two street lamps. She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he held her, took comfort in the knowledge that he breathed, because she thought for just a quick second, that she once thought he no longer did. But as that thought flashed away, her body reacted, her hands locked onto his arms, her face turned into his shoulder, and she whined, low in her throat as she pressed her back against his chest, wanting to merge fully with him, needing to be a part of him, to give him some of her life.

The hand at her hip, with those talented, nimble fingers, shifted, splays flat against her belly, and a feeling of desire-one stronger than Isabelle had ever felt in her life-overcame her, and her grip on his arm was crushing, just as her face turned, shifted, until her lips were against his neck, and her hot breath was against his skin as she gasped something that sounded like his name.

He nuzzled her hair, his chin with the hint of whiskers, brushed her forehead, sending a thousand little sensations coursing through her that mingled where his hand rested and spread lower, making her knees weak. This was right, this was where she belonged, had always belonged. Here in his arms, arms that were made to hold her, to love her. She fit here, always had, always would. She wouldn't-couldn't-deny it ever again. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her.

His voice was soft and knowing against the shell of her ear, "My greatest fear in all the world is that you wish we'd never met. Ease my heart, Luv, say you didn't mean it."

And she said it, because there wasn't anything more true in all the world, "I didn't mean it. I didn't. I'm sorry."

He shushed her, "Don't apologize, I'm the last person in the world you owe an apology to." She felt a rushing sensation then, and closed her eyes at the dizziness that overcame her for a moment. When she opened them again, they were tucked into the alleyway, deep enough that only indirect light from the street lamps touched them.

Despite how right she felt, a shiver of nerves overcame her and she turned to look back down the alleyway at the only escape route. "M-Mr. Gold?"

"Hm?" was his lazy response. He made no inappropriate moves in their dark retreat, just stood there with his back against the side of some unknown building, with Izzy captured surely in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She'd wanted it to come out with more conviction, but it came out as skeptical and naive as she was.

His slow smile was in his voice as his fingers moved softly against her belly. "Is it not obvious?" He chuckled, low in his chest when she shook her head, the vibrations sending another shiver down her spine. He pulled her an inch closer and she yielded against him. His voice was once again in her ear, and if she didn't know better, in her mind, "I am reminding myself that you did not run down that street and away from me in terror as you should have. That instead, you are the same brave young woman who fascinated me so long ago. I am," and he paused nuzzling his cheek against her hair, "torturing myself by remembering all our wasted time."

Conflict warred within Isabelle, the need to melt into him fighting against the need to protect him. But here, in his arms, he seemed more than capable of protecting himself, leaving her the luxury of indulging in the feeling of warmth that seemed to tingle every one of her nerve endings at his words. But still, this was not his typical behavior, though a part of her always knew-or hoped-it would eventually come to this.

Slowly, hesitating, fearful of breaking this spell and knowing it needed to be broken, she turned in his arms, surprised when his grip did not loosen and he continued to hold their bodies locked together, their lips mere inches apart. Needing space, she tried to take a step back, but he hesitated, a slight frown marring his features, and though he gave her an inch, he relinquished nothing more.

His eyes were intense as he looked down at her, and she felt overwhelmed by the power she suddenly yielded against this great man. He was looking at her as if she could make or break his world, and a part of her thought that she probably could if she chose to do so.

Ducking her head, she looked at the center of his chest, at the small white buttons done up so perfectly on his gray and white striped shirt. On its own, her left hand came up and began to toy with one of the buttons, fingering it lightly. She glanced up at his face, and then back down at her fingers and that single fascinating button. His hands were low at her waist, his thumb beginning to brush lightly when he saw her struggling to articulate herself. She glanced up at the gesture and offered a shy smile, knowing he was trying to help her. With a deep breath, she looked up at him and did her best to put ten years, and three days into perspective.

"I have no idea what you're talking about half the time, do you know that?" She laughed, dropping her forehead to the center of his chest before shaking it back and forth. "You confuse me." She sought out his eyes then, and held them the best she could, comforted by the semi-darkness. "You're cold with everyone, business before relationships, but with me, it's always been different. You should have hurried me out of your shop for thumbing through a book you knew I couldn't afford, but instead, you gave me a place to sit and invited me back."

She paused then, glancing away, "And after that summer, when I was in the hospital, you came to see me every day; a girl who by all rights mooched off you for a year, reading your books, taking you away from customers. I think the only thing I ever gave you for that was-"

"A rose." He said quietly, his eyes soft and warm as he looked into her own.

Isabelle thought back, "That's right, a red rose, for your birthday, though you wouldn't tell me how old you were." She smiled coyly.

"Still won't," he teased, and a brilliant smile broke across Izzy's face. This is how she remembered him, how she saw him, warm, welcoming, teasing, comforting. If only everyone else could see him this way...

"You had no reason to care about me, but you did." She looked away again, her eyes going to her fingers playing with his button. "I know about the loans you have no intention of ever collecting on, the doctors' bills that Granny never worries about and yet always get paid, the battle you fought but lost to keep my father in jail. I know all about those things, but do you know things from my perspective?"

She looked up and saw the confusion in his eyes and shook her head. "I see the kindest, most loving man in all of Storybrooke, and everyone treats him like he's the town pariah. I listen to people whine all day long about high rent and expensive loans. I watch mothers pull their children close when you walk by, and all I want to do is reach out and smack each and every single one of them!" Against her knowledge, her hand had fisted in his shirt, crushing the fabric, she released it, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Belle-" she shook her head, cutting him off.

Her eyes wouldn't rise, but she said the words anyway, "You, and Ruby, you're the most important people in my life." She scoffed at herself, "Did you know that? I mean, we barely know each other, despite everything that you've done for me, the fact that we see each other every day, I hardly know you, and yet, the thought...of you not...not being there," surprised, Izzy blinked back tears and shook her head, pressing forward. "Ruby makes sense, she's the sister I never had, my best friend; she's supposed to be the most important person in my life. Granny too; even Dr. Hopper. But, they're not. They should be, and they're not." She shook her head again, and this time, looked up, catching and holding his intense eyes. "You are. You're the most important.

"Some days I wake up and I can't wait to see you. I wait all day for you to come in at 5:30. Sometimes those are frustrating days when I wish the clock would just rush forward and you can walk in, and I can lead you to a seat and take your pie order, and other times," she drifted off, losing her nerve and breaking eye contact with him.

Her fingers went back to the button, and her voice was low as she continued. "Other times it's everything I can do to make it through the day. Memories, or just feeling down and horrible overwhelm me, and I tell myself, 'Izzy, only three more hours until you see him.' 'Izzy, only thirty minutes until he gets here, just hold on.' And then you're there, the same time every day, the same constant reminder that everything will be ok, that I'll be ok, that-" She stopped, catching herself before she said the most obvious, but he knew and he said it for her.

"That you're loved." The hand at her waist rose up her back and into her hair, and he used his grip to gently move her eyes back to his own until she could do nothing more than close them and nod her head. His voice was fitting for the darkness that surrounded them, the secrets they were sharing. "You are, Belle. Doubt whatever you like, but never that."

She smiled, though it wasn't until his knuckles brushed away the tear that she realized she had given her body permission to express her joy. She laughed softly, ducking her head and batting at her eyes.

"That's not what I wanted to say to you tonight. I wanted to say that you needed to protect yourself, that you needed to realize that the Mayor is powerful and dangerous, and that you always turn a blind eye to the danger you put yourself in whenever it concerns me. I'm supposed to be a better person and tell you to stay aw-"

His finger came up and pressed against her lips. "Ah, but we said, you weren't going to say that."

She nodded, drawing his hand down until she was holding it between them, against her chest. "She's dangerous. You may not think so, but she is." She sobered, raising her face to look him deeply in the eyes, "You heard what I said, how I think about you. I meant it. And I can't bear to think that something could happen to you because of me, because of your, well your weakness for me.

"The Mayor, this town, it's dangerous to you, and if you won't take steps to protect yourself, then you make me do stupid things like try to protect you myself, and I'm obviously pretty pathetic at that, I mean I was trying to push you away and here I am-"

"In my arms, where you belong." He said it with such conviction, such absolute knowledge that Isabelle had to blink at his intensity. He looked down at her and shook his head in a sad way, "Belle, my beautiful, brave, kind, Belle, you need to believe me when I tell you, as long as you never believe a thing Regina tells you, as long as you stay away from her at all times, as long as you never again try to push me away," he gave her an intense reprimanding look, "Then I can guarantee that you and I are both safe, from Regina, from the people of this town, from everyone."

She shook her head, "How can you say that, you don't know what everyone's thinking or scheming, or planning or insinuating? There's a lot of insinuating that goes on in this town, Mr. Gold, most of it involving us, or Mary Margaret and David, but mostly us."

He smiled, a grin that both warmed her heart and shot a bolt of fear through her for anyone that ever tried to go against him. "One of the perks of being as...affluent as I am, Belle, is that little things like town gossip and schemers are no threat."

Pressing a hand to his chest she shook her head, "That cocky arrogance is going to be your downfall if you're not careful! You can't afford to be cavalier about this! The Mayor threatened you tonight, and she did it by going through me! You might be able to protect yourself, but you can't protect yourself and me at the same time. Please, I'm begging you, you need to protect yourself!"

Shaking her head she backed up, feeling his fingers glide across her body as he let her go. She turned around, taking a few steps, but never leaving the security of the dark world they'd created. "Maybe if you just didn't come around for a while, just until things settled down, maybe Regina would get frustrated and go away. She's never been that interested in me before, maybe if you just," she turned around and glanced up at him, "acted more like your old self, she wouldn't even think twice about me." A brilliant idea struck her, and Isabelle rushed back to him, hands to his chest, "What if we just pretended we were angry with each other! I could pretend that, well that I yelled at you, and you could pretend you found another..."

The words died on her lips, the thought of him finding someone else making her heart pound and her world blacken.

Warm, sure hands came up, encircling her arm for support and her cheek for comfort. He tipped her head up, saw her eyes and shook his head. "Impossible, Dearie, the thought of you pretending to be angry with me hits far too close to home; and the part you suggest I play is beyond my acting abilities. Better I stay close to you, than far, for comfort and for my own sanity."

She glanced up at him, hearing the sincerity of his words. These were his confessions, spoken in riddles but spoken all the same. She could play coy, or allow herself to pretend at insecurities, but the truth was, Isabelle was a bright young woman, and she knew a confession of love when she'd heard one. These words were his, spoken by a man unused to sharing his feelings, but wanting to, needing too, none the less. It was endearing, and so, she didn't ask for more.

Nodding, she glanced once again at the button between her fingers. "What are we going to do?"

Above her, he shook his head, "Nothing. At least, nothing different."

She smiled, looking up at him coyly, "Nothing different? You don't really mean, nothing different do you?"

His echoing smile was slow but brilliant as his hand came up to brush a stubborn curl from her forehead, "Unless you had something else in mind?"

Smiling she leaned forward, resting her head against his chest, feeling his fingers dance along the back of her neck. She was content to just rest here, soaking up the monumental discoveries this night had brought her. There were no more doubts between them, his intentions clear. She wouldn't be left wondering and dreaming about a possible future, but instead a probable one.

Eventually, she pulled back, smiling shyly up at him as his fingers slipped from her neck, down her arm and to her hand, holding it lightly. She looked down at their interlocked fingers and smiled to herself before looking up to see him looking down at their hands as well.

With a sigh, she broke their easy silence. "I need to go to bed, I'm exhausted, and I'm pretty sure the only reason you won this argument is because I can no longer reason."

He chuckled, squeezing her hand, "Your wairiness is my gain, Dearie. But perhaps you're right, best we get you inside." With a smile, he lifted his cane from its forgotten place against the wall, and pulled her forward, not relinquishing her hand.

As they broke the cocooning darkness of the alley, Izzy couldn't help looking down the street for any watching eyes. She knew he caught her, but refrained from comment, and so she followed next to him as they walked hand in hand the remaining block to the gate that separated Granny's from the rest of the world.

At the gate she turned towards him, and the moment might have been awkward, but she had no expectations, so when he stepped forward and laid a soft kiss at her temple, she smiled shyly, and walked through the gate he held open for her. At the top of the stairs she turned around and saw him standing there. For the first time his expression was unsure, nearly fearful, and though she didn't understand it, she did her best to reassure him.

"I'm making the apple pie tomorrow. See you at 5:30 for a slice?" Izzy watched his unease melt away at her smile, and he nodded before closing the short gate.

She returned the gesture, and then turned around, slid her key into the lock and walked inside. But she couldn't help turning around, her eyes seeking and holding his, as she closed the door and latched it.

In the absolute darkness of the entryway, Izzy pressed her back against the door and took a deep breath. Then she started to count.

Her smile was brilliant and pleased when she got all the way to a hundred before she heard the distinctive sound of his cane taking him home.

On light feet, she walked up the stairs and entered her bedroom, not noticing the hushed tones and soft light coming from Granny's room at the other end of the hall.


End file.
